#he's lived the consequences of not having that choice

[brunchable]

BIG DICK is back in town | Bucky Barnes x f!reader

Pairings: Boyfriend Bucky Barnes x f!reader Themes: Funny? Just Bucky being a menace to his girlfriend. Summary: Bucky came back from being away for a weeks, now that he's back you can finally play your revenge on him after he pulled a prank on you before he left. A/N: I can't stop laughing while writing this, then again i have a shallow sense of humour. . .

Bucky had just gotten back into town after a mission that kept him away for weeks. He was expecting a quiet lunch with his girlfriend, and maybe a couple of friends. What he didn’t expect was the t-shirt you handed him that morning.

“Put this on,” you said sweetly, too sweetly, as you tossed the shirt at him.

Bucky raised an eyebrow as he unfolded the shirt. His face immediately twisted in shock and horror when he read the massive, bold black text: “BIG DICK IS BACK IN TOWN.”

He blinked, his mouth slightly open, and then let out a strangled laugh. “No. No way. There’s no way I’m wearing this.”

“Yes way,” you batted your eyelashes, doing your best to look innocent. “You have no choice.”

Bucky glanced at you, then did a double take at the walk-in closet, which was suspiciously empty. All his shirts—gone. Vanished. Not even a single plain tee left hanging. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

You just crossed your arms, smirking. “Actions have consequences, babe.”

He ran a hand through his hair, still half in disbelief. “This is because of the doll heads, isn’t it?”

“Hm, that was a good one. . .” You look narrowed your eyes at the memory.

Bucky thought it would be funny to buy a bunch of creepy, old-fashioned doll heads from a thrift store. Then, he strategically placed them around the apartment—under your pillow, in the fridge, behind the shower curtain, even in your bag. The final straw had been when you found one staring at you from inside a cereal box.

You had screamed. A lot. Bucky had laughed. A lot.

“But no, this is not about the doll heads.”

Bucky breathily laughed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “It's the arm. It's because of the arm isn't it?”

Your smirk widened. Oh, it was definitely because of the arm. A few days before his mission, Bucky had pulled the ultimate prank on you. He’d convinced you that he had lost his arm—like, the entire vibranium arm—by hiding it in the dishwasher. When you came home and found Bucky lying on the couch, dramatically holding his shoulder and claiming, “I just...I don’t know where I left it,” you freaked out. You tore the place apart looking for it, almost hyperventilating at the thought of your boyfriend wandering around missing a whole limb.

Then Bucky had pointed to the dishwasher after it finished its cycle with the most innocent face in the world. “Oops,” he had said with a wink.

You had not spoken to him for the rest of the day.

So, now, here he was, standing in the bedroom, staring at the most embarrassing t-shirt he had ever seen. And you weren’t done yet.

“So now, you get to wear that and face the public. Including Steve, Sam, and Nat.” you said, your tone dripping with vengeance.

“Oh you didn't,” Bucky muttered with a groan, staring at the shirt like it might burn a hole through his hand. “You invited them, too?”

“Of course. What’s revenge without an audience?”

There was no way out of it. Bucky knew when he was defeated. “I’m never going to live this down.”

You beamed, utterly delighted. “That’s the point, babe.”

With a resigned sigh, Bucky knew he had no choice. This was payback, and you had every right to exact your revenge. Besides, if there was one thing Bucky Barnes wasn’t, it was a coward.

Bucky peeled his old shirt off, revealing his ripped torso, and tossed it casually in your direction. He caught you glancing at him, your eyes momentarily lingering on the sharp definition of his muscles, but you quickly masked your ogling with a smirk. 

He paused for effect, stretching a little more than necessary, emphasising every ripple in his abs and arms before picking up the dreaded t-shirt. 

"Enjoying the view?" he teased, his lips twitching into a playful grin.

You raised an eyebrow, feigning indifference. "I mean, it's not bad," you said, your voice light with sarcasm. But your eyes betrayed you. 

Bucky, now fully aware of the attention, dramatically sighed as he pulled the embarrassing t-shirt over his head. 

"Let's just get this over with." 

As the bold lettering stretched across his chest, he shot you a look. "You know, this whole revenge thing? It won't save you from what's coming next." 

You just chuckled, stepping closer and placing a hand on his chest, right over the words "BIG DICK IS BACK IN TOWN." You looked up at him, a devilish glint in your eyes.

“I'm looking forward to it, Big Dick.”

× × × × 

When Bucky and you arrived at the restaurant, he walked in with his head held high, trying to act like he wasn’t wearing the most humiliating piece of clothing in existence. You, of course, were grinning ear to ear, savouring every second of his discomfort.

As soon as Sam spotted Bucky from across the room, he burst into uncontrollable laughter. “Oh no! Oh no, man, this is too good!”

Steve, grinning like he was trying out a new stand-up routine, shook his head. “You know, Buck, I always figured you had a lot of baggage, but I didn’t think you’d advertise it so boldly.”

Steve continued and gestured to the shirt with a broad smirk. “You sure you want the world to know what we’ve all been suspecting?”

Natasha, biting her lip to suppress a laugh, finally cracked. “I have so many questions. But also, no questions at all,” she said, covering her mouth as she tried and failed to hold in her giggles, while Sam was practically in tears beside her.

“I lost a bet,” Bucky mumbled, sliding into his seat and trying to cover the text with his arms. But every time he moved, the words on his chest seemed to scream louder: “BIG DICK IS BACK IN TOWN.”

You sat next to him, clearly enjoying the show. “He didn’t lose a bet,” you corrected, your grin growing wider. “He’s just paying for his crimes.”

Steve raised an eyebrow, clearly curious. “Crimes?”

Your eyes sparkled as you turned to the table. “He made me think he lost his arm. Like, completely gone. I nearly had a heart attack tearing the house apart trying to find it, and it was in the dishwasher the whole time.”

Sam almost fell off his chair laughing. “That’s—oh man—that’s genius! I mean, that’s terrible, but genius.”

Bucky shot you a side-eye, his lips twitching into a grin despite himself. “She’s out for blood now.”

“And you deserve it,” you said with a wink, sipping your drink.

As lunch kicked off, the group quickly slipped into the usual dynamic, a comfortable mix of teasing, banter, and catching up. Sam was the first to start piling his plate with food. “I don’t know how you survived without my cooking, Buck. These missions must be torture.”

Bucky, still trying to cover up his shirt as much as possible, raised an eyebrow. “You mean burning toast? Yeah, real hardship.”

“Hey, that’s gourmet burnt toast to you, pal,” Sam shot back, pretending to look offended.

Natasha smirked as she picked at her salad. “I’m more curious how you managed to avoid getting your arm stuck in the dishwasher, considering that’s apparently where it lives now.”

Steve, biting into his sandwich, was trying not to laugh with his mouth full. “Can’t believe you actually managed to hide your arm. That’s dedication.”

You snorted, leaning in. “You know what’s worse? He didn’t even try to help me find it. He was just sitting there watching me panic!”

Bucky gave an innocent shrug. “You’re resourceful. I figured you’d find it… eventually.”

Steve shook his head, grinning. “Buck, sometimes I wonder how you survived all those years without us babysitting you.”

Sam nearly choked on his drink. “I’m starting to think Hydra trained him just to prank the people closest to him. That’s some next-level psychological warfare.”

You pointed your fork at Sam. “Exactly! He’s weaponized his own arm, guys. I’m living with a literal menace.”

Bucky looked around the table, a smirk playing on his lips. “Well, you’re all still alive, so I must not be that dangerous.”

“Yet,” Natasha muttered. “Give him another day.”

You glanced at Bucky and laughed. “You know, I did think about ‘accidentally’ sending his arm to Tony’s lab as a prank in return.”

Steve perked up, “Oh, please. Can you imagine the look on Tony’s face when a random metal arm shows up?”

Sam leaned back in his chair, shaking his head. “Man, Stark would never let him live that down. Every time he’d walk into a room, it’d be ‘Need a hand, Buck?’”

Everyone burst out laughing at that, even Bucky, who threw up his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. Maybe I took it a little far.”

You raised an eyebrow. “A little?”

Natasha, with a mischievous grin, leaned over toward Bucky, “So, what’s the next prank in your arsenal, Barnes? Or are you too scared to top the arm stunt?”

Bucky grinned back. “Oh, don’t worry. I’m always planning something.”

“Not if I get you first,” you chimed in, narrowing your eyes at him.

Sam shook his head, chuckling. “I’m staying out of this. You two are gonna end up blowing up your apartment.”

As everyone finished their meals, Bucky was finally starting to relax, the embarrassment of the shirt fading slightly under the barrage of jokes and laughter. But that didn’t stop Sam from leaning in with a sly grin.

“So, Buck,” Sam said, his tone dripping with mischief. “How’s it feel to be back in town?”

Bucky deadpanned, “Empowering. Really, really empowering.”

Natasha snorted into her drink, and Steve, usually the composed one, was struggling not to burst out laughing. “Well, Buck, you’ve definitely made a statement today.”

Just then, a random passerby glanced at Bucky’s shirt, gave him an approving nod, and a thumbs up as they passed, causing the entire table to burst into another round of laughter. Even Bucky couldn’t help but crack a smile at the absurdity of it all.

By the end of lunch, Bucky had to admit, the prank war was far from over. As they stood to leave, he shot you a playful glance. “You know this means war, right?”

You shrugged nonchalantly, still grinning like the cat that got the cream. “Bring it on, Barnes.”

With that, Bucky wrapped an arm around your shoulders, tugging you close as you walked out of the restaurant. He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your temple, causing you to smile up at him. Even with the world’s most embarrassing t-shirt on, Bucky Barnes was never one to back down from a challenge — and he was pretty sure you were the best kind of challenge.

As you both approached the car, Bucky opened the door for you, his hand resting on the top of the doorframe like the perfect gentleman. Just as you were about to slide in, a stranger walking by shouted, “Nice shirt, man!”

Bucky paused, shaking his head with a resigned smile, while you burst into laughter from the passenger seat. “Told you it’d be a hit,” you teased.

“Yeah, yeah,” Bucky muttered, closing the door behind you before turning to wave at the stranger, who was still grinning at him.

Bucky got into the driver’s seat and glanced over at you, his smile growing as he shook his head. “You know payback’s gonna be hell for you, right?”

[syoddeye]

consequence / snowball

price x f!reader | 2k words series directory | ao3 tags: exes, angst, cheating, references to depression. a/n: good things come to those who wait. ☕

it’s strange to think there’s a man in the living room.

by invitation. you’d extend it further and lure him down the hall to your room, but he might not appreciate it, considering you shit the bed by crying like an infant in front of him.

it’s the beer and ben. you should’ve arranged for delivery or left his things on the street. would’ve been less personal that way, safer, but you had to know—if you’d feel anything, if he’d ooze regret. you came out two for two, slapped with clarity. not only was ben unrepentant, he was happy. happier without you.

you gaze at the hyacinths above your bed. they remind you of john’s eyes. soothing.

~~~~

there’s a weight on john’s chest when he wakes.

cece purrs contentedly. she butts into his chin as he stretches, one hand stalling her advance to his face and the other scrubbing over his eyes. he tucks her to his chest as he stands and scratches under her chin while staring at the door at the end of the hall, pushed open to the width of a cat. not a sound.

he starts the kettle. it’s only polite.

in her cupboards, he finds the coffee and a collection of novelty mugs. he settles for ‘not paint water’ and ‘black coffee’ in the style of black flag. 

she can’t meet simon. he’d steal her.

john refills cece’s water, then tiptoes around the living room. with the added context, he examines the decor and art in a new light. he wonders if she looks at them with pain or contempt. if any inspire positive thoughts, or if they’ve been stripped of them. if she, like him, keeps tokens regardless of sentiment. monuments to his own failings, shortcomings, and triumphs. and, if she does, how he’ll drown out the bad with good.

she startles him.

“morning.” she stands at the mouth of the hall, in sweats and a t-shirt, voice thick with sleep. “did you…?” 

“hope you don’t mind.” he watches her shuffle languidly. “i don’t know if you prefer coffee or tea, but figured the kettle’s necessary either way.”

she hums and retrieves a glass pour-over from a cupboard. “i’m just impressed you’re here at all.”

you of little faith.

“not the type to flee a woman’s flat without a proper goodbye.”

“no? you often stay over at women’s flats?” her back is turned, but he hears the smile in her voice. “what constitutes a proper goodbye?”

his gaze lingers before he joins, ignoring the questions for his own sanity. “sleep well?”

after pouring water over the coffee grounds, she turns and leans, the picture of nonchalance, save for the puffy and still somewhat bloodshot eyes.

it’s not right to burn paintings, but he’d set fire to her ex’s studio, gallery—wherever the rat held his collection—if he believed it’d make her feel better.

“yes, actually. last night was, um, cathartic.”

he tilts closer, laying a palm flat on the counter beside her hip. “i assume there’s more to the story, but it’s your choice. i won’t pry any further. just say the word.” 

“no, no. i want to tell you.” she sighs, focusing on the drip. “you’re right. i didn’t get to the best part.”

to that, he has no immediate answer. no inclination to rush her into conversation when she’s barely awake. in the brief silence, her dejection and shame seep into the space like the water filtering through the grounds. 

john pulls out his phone, tapping through screens. “gonna need somethin’ to eat, sounds like. you been to…hm. ‘for goodness bakes’ bakery?”

she frowns over her shoulder. “john, i’m not suitable for public consumption.”

he lifts a brow. “debatable, but i mean to pop out and pick up breakfast. do you have a preference?”

slipping from his place beside her, he weaves around cece and heads for his shoes and jacket.

“you don’t have to–”

“i know. preference?”

across her flat, she fights back a smile and he fights his impulses.

“raspberry-filled doughnut.”

sweet. suits her. “rog. lock the door after me, shower, and i’ll be back before you know it.”

~~~~

the water feels hot, no matter how low you turn the temperature. 

such a complicated influx of thought. flirting with john is effortless. talking is easy. he cuts through your guilt and grief like an icebreaking ship with none of the force or command. and he listens. really listens. you could stare at the divot between his eyebrows all day, the way his face grows serious, and his eyes somehow warmer. 

for the first time in months, you genuinely fuss over clothes and skincare beyond moisturizer. are you pathetic? is this pathetic? you ask cece, she slow blinks and slaps the tie to your robe. inconclusive.

a knock at the door. you yank a shirt over your head, assess, and force yourself to walk calmly from your room.

don’t rush this.

~~~~

she smells faintly of citrus. coffee, too. though that may be the steaming mugs set between them.

“good?”

“the best,” her cheek bulges with a bite. her eyes don’t stray from the pastry, its fruity entrails spilled onto a plate. “thanks.”

they eat in relative silence, but he catches her staring at his bicep twice. 

“rethinking your compliments?” he flexes the mermaid’s tail, dusting croissant flakes off his fingers.

her turn to ignore a question. she asks her own. “y’know, i never asked. do you live far?”

“across town.”

“and yet you come to the shop, what, three times a week when you’re in town?”

four, if he’s lucky. “good coffee. decent service.”

“right.”

she finishes and licks sugar off her thumb. john tears away to clear the table, ignoring another protest. last thing he wants to do is turn a lovely morning into an awkward one. he joins her on her couch, taking what feels like is quickly becoming his spot and prompting cece to sit on his lap.

“where did i leave off?” she asks rhetorically, staring into her mug. “ben’s big break. right. he was only originally supposed to be away for two weeks painting a mural for an architect’s office. well, midway through the job, the architect introduced him to a friend who happened to own a gallery.”

“the snowball.”

“yes. of course, ben’s gifted, but like i said, he’s got personality. the, uh, hustle. i can’t blame him for seeing an opportunity and taking it. at least that opportunity.”

john hesitates to address the continued self-deprecation with how her voice wraps around the very telling ‘that’. he bites his tongue and picks his battle. another day, he’ll help tear that veil of doubt from her eyes.

“anyway, his two week long trip spun out into six.” she winces. “he didn’t end up coming back once. not to grab more clothes or anything. he just had me send some along with selected pieces. he said there was no time.”

“and hannah?”

“neck-deep with the final school exhibition.” she goes quiet, lost in her barely-touched coffee. swallowing, her gaze lifts. “she was…busy.”

john sets his mug aside out of concern for the ceramic’s integrity.

“things became difficult. ben said he wanted to try long-distance before, so i thought six weeks was a decent trial run. i wasn’t well, but texting and calling him kept me afloat. then he started getting busier, and couldn’t text or call every day. one weekend, he didn’t answer at all. he did apologize, though, and sent me flowers—not as nice as yours, though. yellow somethings. kind of garish.”

he mirrors her small, sad smile, dropping it when she looks away. it’s deeply selfish and painfully juvenile to revel in that detail, but he does.

“eventually, his trip ended. things improved, rapidly, like he was eager to make up for lost time. dates, gifts, love notes. it was nice. he booked more work, but he bought a car, so he’d stay home during the week and travel on weekends. i couldn’t tag along often, since weekends are the busiest days at the shop, but he promised he’d be home for our anniversary.”

cece migrates. the ball of warmth leaves him for her mum, tucking her purring self into his girl’s lap. she sets her coffee down and idly strokes the creature, leaning hard into the cushions, holding her cheek with a palm. her focus drifts elsewhere for a minute.

he knew the story would inevitably reach this point. the crash. it’s difficult to believe he was so angry over a stupid dent.

“you don’t have to continue.”

“no, i want you to understand, john.”

his name’s enough to shut his mouth.

“at dinner, ben gave me his phone to show the photographs that a local paper was going to publish alongside an article about his work. i didn’t think anything of it, other than i thought he looked handsome. so i kept swiping.”

a gear turns in his head.

“and in the background of the last picture, ben and hannah were attached at the mouths.”

his blood boils. it is good his hands are empty.

“you know, i think he wanted me to find out like that. in public, where he didn’t think i’d make a scene.”

~~~~

ben called you crazy. crazy. 

he’d taken his phone back with this look on his face and immediately demanded you lower your voice. you asked him point blank—how long?

he muttered something. months.

you’re not proud that you tossed a glass of wine into his face. knowing him, he was going to turn the breakup into a fucking piece. when he shot back from the table, he had the gall to act surprised and embarrassed. you contemplated throwing your glass, too, as he stormed out.

but he wasn’t worth it. 

you’d lose your job. which you’d need, since you were definitely on your own now.

the bottle of wine you drank that night couldn’t cover the bitter taste in your mouth, nor could it erase the fact that ben won.

and you lost.

~~~~

outside, john loiters at the top of the stairs. the cooler air helps mellow his temper.

“sure i can’t sort him out for you? i know a man or two who’d help. there’d be no connection to you.” he smiles. if only she knew the sincerity of the offer.

“i’m sure, john. i’ll let you know if that changes. walk you to the corner?”

he shelves his anger for later. when her arm slips through his without asking, it’s swiftly shoved to the back. he squeezes her hand against his ribs. 

“i’m curious about something.” john admits. “earlier. you insisted on tellin’ me everything so i’d ‘understand’.”

she hums.

“it’s not as though i didn’t follow. i did. i do, but i’m not entirely sure what you meant by that.”

at the corner, she withdraws and shoves her hands into her pockets. “i needed you to hear all the, uh, gruesome details. so you know what you’re getting into.”

“getting into?” his chest tightens.

a look of resolve falls over her face. her voice is the firmest he’s heard outside the shop, calling customers to pick up their orders.

“i made the mistake of rushing things before. i’m not keen to do it again. if you like being around me, john, which i think you do,”

more than you know.

“you should know i want to take whatever this is slow and steady. i don’t want to screw up again.”

he grasps for the right thing to say. slow and steady. he can do both. he’s laid on his belly for days waiting for a shot and knows the consequences of missing. to seize opportunity when it’s in front of him.

and this one’s finally wandered into his crosshairs.

[rosyandraw]

idk if this is redundant on your end but thoughts on Damen needing to talk during sex? in the books it isn’t even dirty talk it’s just endless want for Laurent and how long he’s been waiting for him and how different Laurent feels. Also in canon & in ur own writing

Definitely not redundant! You have just knocked on the Damen Character Study door in my head lmao but it's late and idk how much sense this will make so i'm sorry in advance.

Mini meta on Why Damen Likes to Talk During Sex in Canon

First and foremost words are hugely important to Damen, not just during sex but in general. It is part of the reason that Vere trips him up so badly, why he just doesn’t get it. Because Vere is a veil of word play and innuendo, it’s double speak and flowery bullshit and lies.

That’s not Damen. His word is his bond, it’s tied to his honour and they mean a great deal to him. He never says anything he doesn’t mean. Ever. If it’s coming out of his mouth he is saying that shit with his whole damn chest and doesn't give a fuck.

The few times he is forced to lie or to say something he doesn’t mean he says it as a strategy play but it barely makes it out of his mouth and he hates it.

For a long time by the time they get to Ravenel Damen has been playing a part. Living a half truth and not saying everything he means. Or wants to say.

Likewise, in Akielos, Damen keeps himself held back. We know this because in 3 books, despite being the darling crown prince and heroic military leader, he mentions 1 person by name that he is actually and genuinely close to. One. He’s never been in love with anyone before Laurent, he doesn’t get close, he doesn’t get particularly attached. If he did Jokaste would have been a Princess and not just his mistress.

It speaks of a whole heap of childhood trauma and issues, thanks in large part to his father and Kastor and this picture that is painted of strength in Akielos being The Most Important Thing. (And i have too many thoughts on said implied trauma to write it all out properly here because it's an essay unto itself.)

We also know that Damen does the talking thing with Jokaste too. So we know it's an indicator of intimacy in bed for him. He's certainly not doing it in Vask, for example. Because Damen values words so highly he does wear his heart on his sleeve, but he guards that heart close. Sharing his feelings becomes something then tied to both the value Damen places on words and the lack of emotional intimacy in his life. To Damen, opening up like that especially during sex, is an act of giving unto its self.

Damen is strong, yes. Crazy strong and the perfect warrior. But he also likes the wordy sad poems and has craved approval (and affection) from his father and Kastor seemingly most of his life. For example, Kastor stabbed him and made Damen believe with words that it was a good thing because it meant Kastor respected him enough to fight him like a man.

It’s the perfect anecdote to draw all of those ideas together. Damen being happy about being stabbed at 13 by his brother because Kastor said it was a good thing to be strong enough to fight properly and bear the consequences.

Words matter to Damen, he assumes they do to other people too. It's what nearly gets him killed.

It’s funny really, because Damen values words but he himself is a man of action and Laurent values action but is a man of words.

When it comes to sex we see them swap places from their usual dynamic and therein lies the intimacy.

Laurent acts and Damen talks. It’s a complete role reversal and it was always meant to be. Pacat has said, several times, that Laurent tops Damen with words all the time and it was a purposeful choice to have Laurent bottom because of this. So to follow that through to it's logical conclusion for the sex scenes to really hit we needed to see them swap places completely and Damen needed to talk.

Laurent is a mouthy little shit but when it comes to his important scenes (the building of their intimacy and their sex scenes) it's never his words that he's speaking loudest with. Like when he just hugged Damen after the meeting with Jokaste in KR or when he went to get ice for him in PG, it's an offering in place of words and Laurent does it frequently: letting his actions speak louder than any of his words because to Laurent words don't really matter, lies are too easy. He's been taken in by words before.

Damen gets to Laurent through his actions and it's Laurent's moments of honesty, of saying something unexpected, that make Damen really pay attention. This isn't to say that Laurent's actions don't get to him, they do of course, but only really when Damen comes to realise that's how Laurent is being honest. Likewise in reverse for Laurent.

It's the language the other understands that allows the distance to bridge, but the intimacy comes in the opposite every time.

So when they fall into bed Laurent instigates with action, all three times they are together. And Damen talks. Because it’s the thing that is important to them that they are willingly giving and sharing and that is what makes it intimate.  

Quite simply, Damen holds himself back emotionally so talking during sex like that is a way for Damen to let go and to let his partner know that's it not just sex. Laurent, in reverse, shows his want through the instigation and by the time it happens they both know what it means: Laurent never does that and Damen knows it. Laurent knows Damen says what he fucking means.

It's such an intimate sex scene because of that awareness.

In my writing I kind of try to take that and run with it. Damen says what he means and what he wants Laurent to hear, because words of affirmation are important to him personally so he makes sure to share that.

Plus, it’s just sexy, you know? Got to love a man who talks in bed, that sex rough voice when he’s so far gone you know what his saying is just the shit flying through his head?

Hot.

Loved this ask so much. I could literally write a thesis on Damen lmao

[sirfrogsworth]

I know I said going out into the world is worth the mental health boost, but I also got two vaccines and then worked in the heat cleaning out my garage for several hours and now I can't move and I haven't been able to move for several days.

I can't deny that sometimes things just need to get done. I didn't really have a choice. This is a consequence I chose and knew would occur. And I feel like I can't complain about how horrible I feel because of the deliberateness of my decision.

But I think I'm going to complain anyway because I feel like poop.

This is why the "push yourself" mentality is so dangerous to chronically ill people. Again, sometimes it cannot be helped. I haven't talked much about it yet, but I have a runway and it keeps getting shorter. And if I don't solve some very big problems before my runway ends, I could be pretty screwed. So I'm going to have to push myself on occasion and I need to try and be smart about it.

But please don't ever suggest "pushing through it" as an ongoing solution for disabled people. I've heard it so many times. There was even a time when my own father would preach from the Church of the Glorious Work Ethic™ because that is how he was raised. But it is also how he ended up with severe chronic pain and a fake hip.

Despite that, in the beginning, he would still tell me to push myself in order to accomplish things. Eventually he saw how damaging it was and how it made things worse in the long run. I was destroying my mind and body and my productivity decreased the longer I pushed myself. My recovery periods would get longer and longer and my productivity became almost nonexistent.

Conserving energy, doing a little bit at a time, and understanding how to pace myself always garnered better results. But that required patience. And patience is a skill. And for me it is a skill that I have spent two decades trying to master and I still fail more than I care to admit.

But during my first few years of being sick I had no patience. And my dad had no patience. So we were just this chaotic ball of impatience. And that was probably the only time we had trouble getting along.

"Pushing through" and ignoring pain and fatigue is the number one piece of advice that has always been catastrophic. I would encounter people with a "strong work ethic" who believed if they had my collection of chronic maladies they could just use willpower and work a proper job and live a normal life. I was just lazy in their minds. They thought accepting my circumstances and managing my symptoms was giving up. They would inform me that "everyone is tired." They would tell me how tired they are and how they still manage. And I just wish I could help them understand the most tired they have ever been is probably what I would consider a "good day."

Sometimes pushing through just puts a hole in the wall.

[h2llish]

⁀➷ ˖ constellations

notes ─── happy birthday mootie!! @atticoratticus

ROLLO FLAMME ─ late nights and quiet feelings.

warnings ♡ fluff, mutual pining, unestablished relationship, male reader, reader is not mc, i made up some stuff about stars, not proofread

"i knew i'd find you up here!"

climbing the bell tower was a workout you always dreaded. it didn't matter your physique, because the stairs that led to the top were your labeled enemy (dramatic, perhaps, but you truly hated the climb). you favored the shortcut you had been so graciously shown by the group of gargoyles who lived at the top, but even with that cut in climbing, you still loathed the height of the tower.

and yet you find that you torture yourself with how often you climb it. perhaps a loathing part of you has decided to succumb yourself to a life of misery for your choices. ─ in actuality, you know it's because you climb the tower for the person who hardly seemed to mind the number. feelings have led you to make choices you know you'll regret come next morning when your legs ache and you have to force yourself to leave your bed to attend classes. (so, maybe it is true that some part of you is disappointed in you for your choices if you find yourself always climbing despite the consequences you know will come. perhaps it's because of the person who you climb for.)

he didn't look at you, but you know he heard you when he let out that familiar sigh reserved just for you. (you think he enjoys your presence, persistent as you are, despite how annoyed he often appears.)

"why are you here?" he asked as you joined him in front of the bell. you know how much he takes care of it; the bell shined under the moonlight ─ from the cleaning he does every morning of the city's most prized relic. he was punctual and steady; you'd learned that the moment you decided you just had to get to know him.

you smiled, "i thought you might be lonely."

rollo has never been the most for conservation, he often chose to sit alone lest he was required to do otherwise. you see it in how he often tried to get away from his own peers on the council, when he returned their attempts at conversation with short sentences. ─ but that didn't do much to deter you during your own conversations with him. (you like to think he's more involved when you talk, but maybe you're just being hopeful; maybe it's just your feelings covering your eyes.)

you don't quite know when your feelings had become so twisted from only wanting to befriend the aloof and reserved council president. now you found that being around him was almost heart-racing (not so much literally, but sometimes, you think that would be easier to handle if it was). you knew his habits and his likes so well; his lunch he ate that was unchanging every day; his favorite stationery that he used to write to his parents; and his morning routine of getting up to clean the bell of solace and the gargoyles who guarded the relic.

"you know," you interrupted the silence that had fallen over the two of you ─ it wasn't that long, you doubt you had been in silence for more than five minutes, but nonetheless, you still felt like you needed to break it.

the stars were rather bright that night, as if they wanted to be on par with the moon. you pointed at the stars, focusing on one of the brighter ones you'd dubbed among most interesting. "it's said that the groom of a princess from the sea had gifted a star to her. he named it after her and everything."

rollo grunted, and your eyes squinted in delight, knowing he was listening to you. "i don't really know if that's true. the name's been twisted over the years, so the real name has been lost, but a lot of people refer to it as the mer's star."

your arm moved to point at a group of stars, tracing your finger to form the constellation they made up. "don't you think that group of stars almost looks like, say, a contract?" you chuckled, "it's a constellation people connect to the sea witch."

rollo finally looked at you since you'd arrived, and you turned your head to meet his eyes, smiling. his eyes squinted, but he didn't seem annoyed with you, "you're rather knowledgeable about stars."

"i guess i am." you shrugged, "i just happen to like them."

rollo hummed, looking back at the sky, frowning in such a way that hardly ever changed when you seen him (sometimes, you wondered if his face was stuck that way). your smile threatened to waver, and you almost worried you had upset him (it was always so hard to tell if you'd pushed a line with him; his face was always the same).

"and," he said, to which you perked up. he cleared his throat, his attention remaining on the night, "is there, anything else?"

you tried to hide your excitement at the question, sucking in a breath that you were sure would've come out a gasp as you looked back up at the sky. your finger was already tracing another constellation for rollo to follow (and you hoped rollo didn't notice how overjoyed you were at someone asking about your interest).

"this was one is said to form a rose. it's been connected to the queen of hearts!" you pointed at another star, "that's the thorn fairy's star. everyone says it's as old as she."

you don't know quite how long you'd rambled, pointing out stars and constellations you'd studied for years. rollo didn't say much, he nodded and hummed but seemed to listen to what you had to say, nonetheless. (and if you weren't so lost in sharing something you so loved, you think you'd be overthinking and joyed at the thought of him actually listening as you rambled on.)

eventually, your throat began to dry, and you realized you'd been going on. you paused and cleared your throat, grinning almost awkwardly, despite rollo's attention remaining above.

"sorry." you sighed, "i guess i got a bit excited."

rollo looked at you again, reserved and frowning as his expression always was. he nodded, not in agreement you realized when he spoke; "i did not know of any of this until now, thank you."

"well," you blinked, "you're welcome?" ─ you don't understand what he's thinking you for, but you suppose you're still learning about him, and that's just one thing more.

rollo nodded again, but he didn't say anything as he turned back to watch the stars. you noted how out of touch he seemed ─ distracted. you wondered what he was thinking, if perhaps this was your que to get lost, if you overstayed your welcome.

"the moon is beautiful, isn't it?"

your shoulders raised to your ears, and you tried not to show your surprise, "what?" ─ it was stupid, you knew that. he didn't know anything about the stars, he'd said so himself; but some part of you soared at the thought of such a question meaning something else.

"the moon," he repeated himself, "it's quite beautiful tonight, don't you think?"

you paused, looking back at the moon that spotlighted the bell you stood beside. it was nice to look at, so close to its full as it shadowed the sun so brightly. you sighed, and nodded, "yeah, it is."

sorry atticus, i intended on writing for azul as well, but that kinda wasn't going so well. maybe next time!! hope you enjoyed it <3

do not repost, translate, copy, or run my writing through ai.

[selkies-world]

Hey US-AMERICA

If you needed more motivation to vote this year: how about hearing it from Hamilton?

YOU GUYS KNOW HOW FUCKED YOUR SOCIETY AND POLITICS HAS TO BE FOR IT TO GET REWRITTEN AS A GODDAMN HAMILTON SONG, RIGHT!?!??!

RIGHT!?!?!??!

USA, PLEASE VOTE FOR HARRIS. VOTE KAMALA. VOTE BLUE.

Because you do not exist in a bubble. You live in one of (if not The) most powerful countries ON THIS PLANET. Your politics influences the rest of the world. Whoever you put in power influences the rest of the world.

So please. Look at the rest of the world, and think of the consequences of your vote. Look at the refugees running from Jesus' homeland because they're being hunted for sport. Look at the children starving in Syria. Look at the people in the Congo. Look at the people in Madagascar. Look at the people in Egypt. Look at the people in France. Look at the people dying as they try to escape to another country. Look at the people who have no choice but to risk their child's life because it's a slightly better odd than doing nothing at all. Look at the people fleeing their homelands and their family roots and their family members' graves because of dictatorships and wars. Look at the people dying in the streets. Look at the people walking across deserts because they have nowhere else to go, but only know they have to get away from the one land they have ever known. Look at the lives being torn apart by bombs. Look at the children crying in the streets as they have no choice but to make a cardboard box into a home for the night.

Look at your own country - not just your own community, but those outside it. Look at the people you pass in the street. Look at the children. Look at the homeless. Look at the refugees and the immigrants. Look at the students. Look at the elderly. Look at the people you deem invisible in your everyday life - the staff at the store, the taxi drivers, the delivery people, the receptionists.

Look at all of these people - all of these people who you may never know, or relate to, or share life experiences with - all of these people, no matter their skin colour or language or religion or accent or body type or generation - look at all of these people, and think: how will your vote impact them?

Because I promise you, it will.

Please don't subject us to another 4 years of Trump. The planet can't take it, and neither can humanity. Take his threats seriously. He's dangerous, and if he is elected, the world will run red with blood. Blood which will be on your hands.

Please. Vote blue. Vote blue for the planet. Vote blue for humanity, all across the world, no matter what language we speak or what we look like or where we come from.

Please, America. Yous call yourselves the land of the free. Please don't elect the next Putin, or Thatcher, or Hitler. Because that is what Trump will become if you give him the chance.

You have the fate of the entire world in your hands when you vote this year. Please don't sentence us all to death.

[akaiuchiha]

HSR spoilers Luofu new quest

No really, spoilers, don't read if you haven't done the quest

Hum

I regret not pulling for Jiaoqiu, I'm trying very hard to not pull for Feixiao and I got Moze

But

Oh gosh

OH GOSH

THAT WAS WILD

I absolutely LOVED it

At first, I didn't want to do it right now because I wasn't feeling motivated but I kept getting spoilers about Jiaoqiu (not the end but when his arm is hurt and Moze appears)

And I was like "what the hell, why do I feel like he's going to die??"

So I did the quest and finished it some hours ago

First, really good amazing job

Second the way they managed to show the trauma Jiaoqiu went through with his voice only and some sentences was insane

Feixiao answers were so caring and gosh

I love this trio

I don't want to ship them, I need them platonic right now

I need them to hug Jiaoqiu because what the hell was that, he literally went through a living nightmare

The more I think about it, the more I realise how horrible it must have been. That man was their prisoner and was going to be eaten anytime soon

He KNEW they were going to eat him and still did his best to give his general a chance of victory

HE SWALLOWED POISON TO HELP THEM

And when I think about it, that man had his arm broken (I think?), open wounds on his chest, poison in his blood and was eaten alive

EATEN

ALIVE

I can't even dare to imagine the pure agony and anxiety it must have provoke

The feeling of being torned apart because they want to drink your blood

Even though he said he didn't regret anything, you can't convince me he is fine

No one would be fine after THAT

I can't even explain correctly how this thing is one of the most horrible thing that happened until now in my opinion

I know HSR is WAY darker than genshin in many ways because it is linked to HI3 in some way (I'm not saying genshin is kid friendly, but it's less obvious, we don't have pictures of the character being on verge of death-) but wow, when playing it I didn't really acknowledge it but now it makes me sick how twisted it was

I really want to give them a hug

Really

Also, Yanqing I never hated you to begin with and was always happy to see you but now I'm even more amazed by your talent

In the end, this story was a really good one and I appreciate that our choices DO have consequences unlike genshin

[blluespirit]

I sort of like the thought that Zuko and Aang take the Sun Warriors' warning not to tell anyone about the dragons a little more seriously… and they keep it between them. Of course, they trust Sokka, Toph and Katara. Of course they know they wouldn’t tell anyone, but now three people (including Iroh) know the truth about Ran and Shaw. And that’s three too many when you’re trying to keep a secret.

(and there are other people at the temple as well - like Haru, Teo and The Duke - who, while trustworthy, aren’t as close to them as the others, and when it comes to secrets with as much consequence as this one, you can’t afford to take any chances.)

Furthermore, the culture within the Fire Nation since Sozin’s rein has been warped. The culture is not to respect the dragons as the original firebenders, it’s to conquer and kill them. It’s the ultimate proof of your strength as a firebender. All it takes is one mistake before rumour spreads, and people go looking for the ultimate hunt. It’s not something Zuko or Aang can risk.

Whether Katara, Toph and Sokka (and Suki) ever find out the truth is up to you. But post-war, after Zuko returns from a strange, poorly explained trip with a dragon, and eventually develops the ability to use rainbow fire, either the others have some questions about Aang’s knowing look, or they are finally let in on a monumental secret.

[musubiki]

recently thinking about restructuring the timeskip period of tcwg.,..

before its essentially "mochi leaves to train her growing magic alone -> the rest of them stay together and do guild things", but i might change it to "mochi leaves to train her weird magic alone -> the rest of them break off and do their own thing for a few years"

which makes more sense since none of them know when/if mochi was ever gonna come back to them, so the mindset would eventually shift to "well we cant wait around forever, might as well move on with life"

and then when mochis magic is done growing and her training is finished, SHE has to go find THEM scattered across the central kingdom and find out if they even want to be in the guild again (they do)

taffy and coco stayed together (he didnt want to be apart from her) and stayed in a city in between their hometown and the capitol city. medium sized dock city where taffy could be close to the ocean still.

oscar went with coco and taffy for a while, but ended up moving to the capitol and when they find him he bought a house?? (and maybe owns his own business too?? no one knows how things happen to him)

lime stayed extremely active in the magic community. often moving from place to place every few months whenever he wanted and regularly did magic side quests (and the underground ring obviously). he would visit oscar and coco/taffy every so often to check in on them.

none of them ever really abandoned the magic side of the world and often did little magic side quests where they could, but taffy/coco/oscar had much more of a normal life with a home and job compared to lime (when you ask him about it he'll say something about "expanding his horizons/seeing the world/improving himself/didnt really find a place he liked and wanted to stay in for a very long time", and while thats all true the overarching reason is "searching for mochi")

(the underying plot of the timeskip/post-timeskip is that the power of magic in general is growing beyond what anyone had seen before. the reason mochi had to leave is because at the end of the first arc, her magic was supposed to be done growing and she could relax but it didnt stop. so pom took her somewhere to get a handle on it where she could essentially go ham and not hurt anyone by accident, since even pom didnt know how much she was going to be capable of eventually.

after a few years it eventually does stop growing, and poms new quest for mochi is to visit the other witches and investigate what is causing the magic to react in such a weird way, and for that she needs her guild back)

[a-salty-alto]

Thing is, right.

If my boss deliberately left six of my coworkers to get eaten by a giant monster

I wouldn't be happy with my job either, and I wouldn't be inclined to listen to him!

[elfcollector]

playing dao again reminded me with such grief that my canon worldstate is not my actual Preferred One. but i must live with my choices

[azatas]

this is definitely an unpopular opinion if the current discourse is anything to go by but i actually like that astarion loses the ability to walk in the sun if he remains a spawn. i think it makes his decision not to ascend more meaningful

sacrificing the power he wants without gaining anything for it, and in fact losing something, is a huge choice for astarion and if the game pulled a deus ex machina at the end and gave him some magic fix it would have cheapened that choice for me

[zeb-z]

hunter this, hunter that, I think hunter is well within his rights to be wary of a distress signal from crosshair, especially considering how much of a trap the last signal was

[imminent-danger-came]

In the Samadhi Fire ritual flashbacks and the brief vision of Macaque and Monkey King's final fight, SWK lacks the circlet. Do you think this is an intentional plot element, memory being fallible, or a straight-up animation error?

The 3x04 flashback of SWK and Macaque's fight lacking a circlet could easily be fallible memory or bias, but either way it's definitely intentional. The 3x10 Samadhi Fire flashback on the other hand is an unbiased account of what sealing the fire had looked like, so without a doubt we can trust everything we see there!

Honestly, at this point I wouldn't be surprised if there were in fact 2 SWK V Macaque fights: one during jttw where Tang Sanzang encouraged Wukong to spare Macaque (Like the great monk had done with LBD—that or Wukong is just straight up unwilling to finish Macaque off), and another fight post-jttw where it's Wukong alone without the influence of the pilgrims. But that's just me throwing stuff out there.

[skydigiblogs]

oh my god i just got to the pinnochimon's dangerous game episode (43)

oh my god you all were not kidding about that puppet packing heat

[theidiotabides]

My own hawk eyes returned, so superior to the Hork-Bajir vision. I turned my gaze on Visser Four. The head moved. He was still alive. Then I saw a smaller movement. I fluttered my wings and hopped over. I darted my beak down and snapped up the gray slug that was crawling down the doomed man’s cheek. <The Yeerk,> I said. The others came over. Cassie was human. Rachel mostly so. Marco as well. Just kids now, in a ditch, behind a burning tank, surrounded by bodies. <What should I do with him?> I asked. Marco held out his hand. He took the Yeerk. “We can’t let him get a new host. Can’t take him back to our own time. He knows now that we’re humans. We leave him here, he dies slowly of Kandrona starvation.” “They say it’s a horrible way to die,” Cassie said. Marco held the Yeerk out to Ax. <No,> the Andalite said. <I have enough to answer for.> Ax looked at Rachel, then looked away. “No,” Rachel said as Marco offered the Yeerk to her. <Not me, either,> I said. “I see,” Marco said, nodding slightly. “No one’s anxious to add another stain on their conscience? Everyone’s had enough?” He flipped the Yeerk almost casually through the air. Threw it into the flaming hulk of the tank. “Starve or burn,” Marco said, trying in vain to sound tough and indifferent. “His only choices. This is quicker.” -Megamorphs 3: Elfangor's Secret

Crying, screaming, throwing up, etc.