#than ''am i in and of myself good enough''

[lananiscorner]

Reblogging this version and stealing the tags as well:

#i realized this when I was following#gen padalecki#she was talking about the garden#and livestock#and book clubs#and doing so many things with the boys#and i realized that if she had to work#like i have to work#and didn't have the money to hire people to do shit#she couldn't do all of that either#and then i unfollowed her#because it wasn't relevant to me#and was just making me feel bad about myself#even though i knew we were not on the same boat#she's in a yacht#and i'm in a rowboat#and you can't compare the two

This is so important, especially when it comes to body image.

If you ever find yourself looking at someone and thinking "damn, I wish I was as slim and toned as that insta model" or "damn, I wish I was built like that Navy Seal dude"... remember that this is literally PART OF THEIR JOB. You can't be an insta model without being slim and you can't be a spec ops soldier without being in excellent, buff shape. And as a result, people like that spend A LOT of hours in the gym. Like, a lot A LOT. And no, not off hours, after already working for 8+ hours a day like you with your desk job. If you are trying to emulate people like that while not being in that job, you are essentially trying to do two jobs at once. And that ain't a sustainable way to live (you can make it work, but good grief, at what cost...)

And any time you look at someone rich enough to afford somebody else to do their cooking and cleaning and child care? Dial your own expectations way the hell down, because those are freaking time sinks. There's a reason rich people hire other people to do that shit for them (because it's work--and unless you are rich it's work you HAVE TO do for free, because cooking is kind of important for eating and cleaning is kind of important for being healthy and if you don't take care of your kids they have a high risk of ending up dead).

I would also add to this that sometimes it really is too late/impossible to strive for something that you would like to be your top priority. I have asthma and I'm nearing 40. Even if I started working out right now, with the same diet and exercise regimen as a soldier, I would not be able to get that level of fitness, because 1) my lungs aren't build for that and 2) aging is a thing and my body's prime days are over.

And that sucks. Realizing that there are legit, unchangeable roadblocks to things you would like to make your priority SUCKS. And it's okay to be angry and frustrated about that for a while, and to grieve the opportunities you wish you had but never will. It's perfectly fine and normal and healthy. So long as you remember that grief is not a place to be forever. Life goes on. There's more beauty to find in the world and so much more to live for rather than wallowing in sadness forever.

So, if you find yourself with something that you want to make your priority, but cannot, for circumstances outside of your control, ask yourself "okay, but how much do I have to dial back the intensity to make it work and still have it be a top goal?"

One of my goals for this year is to go swimming again. I used to do that competitively. I would love to get back to that same level of intensity again, but 1) I am getting old, 2) I have a full-time job, and 3) it's not something I can just do at home anytime I want--I have to take a bus to the city swimming pool to get there and they ain't open 24/7. So no, I will not be swimming again with the same regularity and intensity as before, but I will try to find a time window that will work with my job and the commute and the opening hours and I will take as much swimming as I can get, because good grief, I miss the water.

One thing that has made me a much more well-adjusted person is a clip I once saw of Hank Green saying that anyone can be in amazing shape as long as being in amazing shape is one of their top three priorities.

(This is obviously a generalization that isn't true for everyone. But it is true for most people and I'm proceeding from there.)

This "top three priorities" framing has genuinely reduced my tendency toward jealousy and self-comparison a lot. Now when I feel envious of someone’s spotless, aesthetic home, I think to myself, “Having a spotless, aesthetic home is probably one of their top three priorities. It’s definitely not one of mine, so I shouldn’t expect my home to look like that.”

Or when I see an influencer with a body that takes a ton of work to maintain: “Maintaining that body is obviously one of her top three priorities, because it’s her livelihood. My livelihood is my brain, so I’m never going to prioritize my body like that.”

It also helps me to identify areas that I actually DO want to prioritize more. I realized in recent years that my envy for my friends who prioritized writing more than I did was NOT going away, so I started to prioritize writing more. (Not top three, but higher priority than it has been in the past.)

[beansprean]

happy valentimes day :')

My Familiar’s Ghost part 91

Masterpost Masterpost 2

See the latest pages on Patreon!

(ID in alt and under cut)

ID: 1a. High shot of the cage, the back wall casting a long grid shadow across the floor. Guillermo is still sitting on the cot, watching as Nandor mumbles to himself and paces around, agitated. 1b. Waist up of Nandor, facing away from Guillermo with his hands on his hips, eyes closed and face flushed. He psyches himself up, breathing deeply and whispering 'Okay, okay, okay,' to himself. Behind him on the cot, Guillermo is leaning his face on his hand, looking a little bored. 1c. Close up on Nandor as he whips around suddenly with a determined expression, snapping, 'Guillermo!' Offscreen, Guillermo startles, 'Ah! Yes?' 1d. Full body of Nandor standing in front of Guillermo, who is still sitting on the cot and leaning forward in interest. Nandor has one fist pressed to his heart and announces, as if previously rehearsed, 'It was very brave of you to express your feelings of love toward me, even though you had every reason to believe you would disappear and those feelings would not be reciprocated.' 1e. Knees up of Guillermo on the cot, looking at the floor while his hand taps nervously at his knee. He mumbles, 'Not brave enough to let you say anything back...' 1f. Repeat. Guillermo looks up as Nandor takes his tapping hand in his and raises it to guide him. Nandor replies, 'Then allow me to do so now.'

2a. Shoulders up of them both in profile as Nandor leads Guillermo to standing. The cage walls are visible behind them, as well as a ghostly blue version in the background behind the panels. Nandor raises his chin and holds Guillermo's hand up between them, his other gesturing vaguely as he says, 'I am much braver than you generally, so it is only right that I express those words as well. To you.' Guillermo smiles at him encouragingly. 2b. Nandor places his free hand on top of their joined ones and stares resolutely at the ceiling, cheeks flushed. He continues, 'I think you are kind and clever and have an ass that simply will not quit. So. I have many feelings. About you. One in particular.' Guillermo snorts softly, amused but fond. 2c. Repeat. Nandor falls silent, wide eyes meeting Guillermo's nervously as the other waits patiently. 2d. Repeat. Guillermo leans forward with a teasing grin and asks, '...Was that it?' Nandor cringes, face scrunching up in frustration as he snaps back, 'No! Augh!'

3a. Shoulders up of Nandor as he covers his eyes and turns his back on Guillermo, embarrassed. He admits, 'I do not have good experience saying these things.' Behind him, Guillermo shrugs with a sad smile and looks toward the ground, playing with his fingers. He replies, 'I know, it's okay. You don't have to-' Nandor interrupts him, 'No, you deserve to hear it.' 3b. Chest up of Nandor from Guillermo's POV as he turns back around and hesitantly removes his hands from his face, bashful. The ghostly blue image of the cage behind him begins to warp as a golden glow fades in. Nandor looks shyly up at Guillermo from beneath his lashes and says 'It made me very, very happy when you said it to me. Though it was not a very happy moment in general. And I...' 3c. Reverse shot, chest up of Guillermo. Nandor continues from offscreen, '...I want to make you happy. Even more than myself, sometimes.' Guillermo reacts strongly to this, rearing back in surprise. Tears spring suddenly to his eyes. Behind him, the golden glow strengthens and bursts, tearing the ghostly cage to shreds. 3d. Shoulders up of them both in profile, the background now cage-free in mottled copper and gold. Guillermo, smiling, removes his glasses to wipe his sleeve over his eyes. Nandor steps forward and calls his name in concern, one hand hovering uncertainly. 3e. Repeat. Guillermo composes himself and slides his glasses back on, saying, ''Go on, I'm listening.' Nandor smiles fondly at this, shoulders relaxing, and reaches up a hand toward Guillermo's downturned face. 3f. Shoulders up of Guillermo looking upward in surprise as Nandor's hand comes into frame to brush the backs of his fingers against his cheek. The colors are slowly warming. 3g. Repeat. Warmer. Nandor turns his hand to cup his palm against Guillermo's face and Guillermo leans into the contact like a cat, closing his eyes and nuzzling into it with a smile, his opposite hand coming up to clutch at Nandor's sleeve. Offscreen, Nandor murmurs, 'My...most precious Guillermo...' 3h. Repeat. Warmer still. Nandor has both hands on Guillermo's cheeks now, framing his face as Guillermo nestles in with a contented smile, eyes closed, hands gripping Nandor's forearms.

4. Wide shot, waist up, of them both in profile, a warm golden glow erupting behind them and washing away the dingy rusted blue of the dungeon beyond. They are lined with golden-pink light soft, warm colors. Nandor, hands still on Guillermo's cheeks, leans forward and bows his head to press their foreheads lovingly together. Their eyes are closed, cheeks flushed, reverence in their expressions. Nandor says, 'I dream of eternity with no one else. I love you. I am in love with you.' /end ID

[astrolook]

Sun in the houses:

Let's see what happens how sun behaves in all these houses, both positive and negative. Mind you that every planet in any house or sign can exhibit both positive and negative traits and can manifest in a person.

Sun in 1st House: I’m not saying I’m the center of the universe, but... I kinda am. 🌞🌍

You just get leadership. You don’t have to try; it’s in your blood. If afflicted, your leadership style might feel more like "dictatorship." You’re so sure of yourself that others don’t get a chance to voice their opinions.

Your positivity and belief in yourself make others think, “If they can do it, I can too!”. If Sun is afflicted, it can come off as "I'm better than you" rather than "I believe in myself."

You’re the life of the party! Your energy lifts the room and makes everyone feel involved. If afflicted, you might crave attention to the point where you overshadow others.

You set big goals, and you achieve them. There’s no stopping you once your mind is made up. If afflicted, friends and colleagues can feel like you’re so busy chasing success that you forget to check in on them.

Your dad probably instilled in you a sense of pride and self-worth that shaped who you are. If afflicted, your dad could be too demanding or proud of you, it can create some serious pressure. You might feel like you’re living for his approval rather than your own dreams, and that can lead to overcompensating or burning out.

Sun in the 2nd House: Money talks, but my self-worth yells! 💸🌟

You have a strong sense of self-worth, often tied to personal achievements. You know your value. If afflicted, You might tie your entire identity to material success, feeling inadequate or worthless without financial stability or possessions.

You are ambitious, striving to build financial security. Hard work often pays off. If afflicted, your financial instability may lead to insecurity or even an unhealthy obsession with money. You may be overly materialistic.

You’re usually careful with your resources but if afflicted, you could be prone to overspending or hoarding, unable to find a balanced approach to finances.

A father figure can be a source of inspiration and a role model in financial matters and work ethics. If afflicted, it could bring inheritance issues or you may feel that you never live up to his expectations.

Can exhibit workaholic tendencies, sacrificing personal happiness or family life for financial gain or status.

You have the potential to rise above financial challenges, but if afflicted, you could experience deep feelings of insecurity or even shame when you don't meet your own or others’ material expectations, possibly leading to cycles of self-doubt.

You might view love through the lens of material gestures or gifts, making it difficult to connect emotionally or romantically.

Sun in the 3rd House: Your ideas are shining bright, but good luck getting people to stop talking long enough to hear them!

You’re a natural communicator, your words carry weight. If afflicted, you might dominate conversations or struggle with listening, sometimes coming off as self-centered or dismissive of others' perspectives.

Close, possibly authoritative, relationship with siblings; they could be supportive, or you may take on a leadership role in your family. If afflicted, Conflicts with siblings or feeling misunderstood could arise, leading to tension and rivalry, sometimes even to the point of no contact.

Quick-witted and sharp but also can struggle with overthinking, becoming mentally scattered or overwhelmed by too many ideas at once.

You could excel as a teacher or mentor. If afflicted, a tendency to lecture or impose your ideas on others.

Enjoys frequent short trips. On the flip side, Travel may be more about running away from stress or distractions rather than meaningful exploration, leaving you feeling unsettled.

You naturally build connections with people in your immediate environment, making you very social and approachable. If afflicted, can come off as superficial or too eager to network.

You have a great sense of humor and can use wit to win people over in conversations. If afflicted, might use humor as a defense mechanism or to hide insecurities, sometimes crossing boundaries or coming across as insensitive.

Sun in the 4th House: Home is where your heart—and your ego—are, and good luck moving past your childhood room!

You deeply value your home and family, often finding identity in your roots and personal space. Sometimes, it can lead to clinging to the past or feeling stuck in old patterns.

Your self-esteem may become too tied to your home life, making you feel insecure or restless if things at home are unstable.

You may have a strong, nurturing relationship with your mother or a motherly figure, who plays a central role in your life. If afflicted, A dominant or overbearing mother could lead to conflicts or struggles with your own sense of self.

You have a deep appreciation for your heritage and traditions. If afflicted, You may be too focused on the past, unable to move forward or let go of old family patterns or unresolved issues.

You may find comfort and strength in your private life, but sometimes a strong need for privacy might lead to isolation or difficulty expressing yourself outside of your home or family setting.

Sun in the 5th House: You’re not just good at playing games—you’re good at being the star of them!

You have a strong need to express yourself creatively, often excelling in arts, hobbies, or self-expression. If afflicted, Can become too focused on being admired for your creativity, leading to vanity or insecurity when not recognized.

Life is a playground for you; you seek joy, excitement, and adventure in everything you do, but if afflicted, may seek too much pleasure, becoming careless or irresponsible, neglecting other important aspects of life.

You approach romance with confidence and passion but sometimes you might crave validation through romantic relationships, leading to drama or superficial connections.

If you become a parent, you’re likely to take pride in raising children and may have a natural ability to nurture and inspire them. If afflicted, can become overly focused on impressing your children or living through them, putting too much pressure on them or on yourself.

You are willing to take risks for excitement but on the flip side, A penchant for risk-taking could lead to reckless behavior or impulsive decisions, sometimes causing unnecessary harm to yourself or others and regrets.

Sun in the 6th House: You’re the go-to person for work, health, and making sure everything runs smoothly—unless you’re burnt out, of course!

You take pride in your work and have a strong sense of responsibility. You’re highly dedicated and reliable. If afflicted, it could be overburdening yourself with tasks and potentially leading to burnout.

You find fulfillment in helping others and often take on service-oriented roles where you can make a difference. Sometimes, you might feel taken for granted or unappreciated, especially if you put others' needs before your own, leading to frustration.

You are often very conscious of maintaining good health but sometimes you could become obsessed with health routines, leading to anxiety about perfection or overemphasis on minor health concerns.

You feel fulfilled by supporting or mentoring others, often excelling in roles that require service or care. You might struggle with self-worth if your efforts aren't appreciated or recognized, leading to resentment.

You possess strong mental and physical discipline and you may become overly critical of yourself or others if things don’t meet your high standards.

You’re excellent at identifying and solving problems but over-thinking or obsessing over problems can lead to anxiety or difficulty seeing the bigger picture, getting stuck in the minutiae.

Sun in the 7th House: You love being in the spotlight of relationships—just make sure you're not shining too brightly for your partner!

You thrive in close relationships and find your identity through your connections with others. If afflicted, you may become overly dependent on a partner for validation, losing sight of your individuality or putting too much pressure on the relationship.

You may take pride in your role as a partner or spouse and often invest deeply in committed relationships. If afflicted, You could place too much importance on marriage or partnerships, potentially attracting bad partners that are either possessive or just use you.

Your relationship with your father can have a significant impact on your views of partnerships. If your father was distant or authoritative, you may unconsciously seek partners who resemble him, leading to issues with power dynamics or unfulfilled needs.

You excel in negotiating and finding common ground in relationships but you may avoid confrontation or sacrifice your own needs to keep the peace, leading to resentment or unresolved issues.

Sun in the 8th House: You don’t just like to dive deep, you want to see what’s under the surface—and no, we’re not talking about the fridge!

You experience emotions deeply, with a strong ability to connect to others on an intimate level. beware, intense emotions can lead to emotional highs and lows, making it difficult to find balance or feel stable in your personal life.

You are fascinated by the unknown, with a natural curiosity about life’s deeper meanings, psychology, and even the occult. You may become obsessed with uncovering secrets, and sometimes, this can lead to unhealthy fixation or paranoia about what’s hidden.

You’re often able to emerge stronger from crises or difficult experiences but also you may become addicted to chaos or dramatic transformations, seeking out crises for the sense of power or transformation they bring.

You have an innate understanding of life's cyclical nature, and you often feel comfortable with the idea of death, allowing you to live more fully. This connection can turn into a preoccupation with mortality, possibly manifesting as anxiety or unhealthy fears surrounding death or loss.

If afflicted, a troubled relationship with your father, possibly marked by power struggles or emotional distance, could lead to unresolved issues or feelings of inadequacy that carry over into your relationships.

Sun in the 9th House: You're on a never-ending quest for truth, knowledge, and adventure—basically, a cosmic tourist with a PhD!

You are drawn to big ideas, philosophy, spirituality, and have a strong sense of purpose, often inspired by a higher calling or ideal. If the ideal is unattainable or unrealistic, you might feel disillusioned or disconnected from reality, leading to frustration or unrealistic expectations.

Travel, especially abroad, opens your mind and helps you grow as a person. If afflicted, leads to a feeling of being ungrounded or dissatisfied if you're unable to travel or explore as much as you’d like.

You might even study or work abroad. Your family could have mixed races.

You enjoy being a guide, especially when it comes to life’s big questions. If afflicted, can exhibit a tendency to be overly preachy or self-righteous could alienate others.

Sun in the 10th House: The spotlight is yours! You were born to be on stage—just don’t forget to thank your fans (or, you know, your boss)!

You’re highly motivated to achieve your professional goals and to be recognized for your efforts. If afflicted, you may become overly focused on career achievement, neglecting personal life or burning out from putting all your energy into work.

You care deeply about your reputation and public image, working hard to project a successful, competent, and reliable image. If afflicted, an excessive focus on public perception might lead to superficiality, a tendency to prioritize appearances over substance, or anxiety about how others view you.

Your career goals often play a significant role in shaping your sense of self. Achieving professional milestones boosts your confidence and sense of purpose. If your career is the only way you define yourself, failure or setbacks in your work life may cause a loss of self-worth or personal identity.

Your work is a vehicle for self-expression. You want your career to reflect your true talents and individuality. If your work doesn't align with your authentic self, you may feel you're not being true to who you are.

Your father may serve as a strong role model for career success, influencing your own professional aspirations and ambitions. If your relationship with your father was strained or critical, you may feel like you’re constantly trying to meet his expectations or prove yourself, which could cause you to chase success for the wrong reasons.

Sun in the 11th House: You’re the lonely butterfly with a mission— dreaming of changing the world one connection at a time!

You're that introvert in the extroverted setting. You could be surrounded by people all the time and still feel lonely. You prefer a one-to-one connection than a group setting.

You may become disillusioned or frustrated with the slow pace of change or people who don't share your level of commitment to causes, which could make you feel isolated or unsupported.

You likely to adopt kids or maybe you are the adopted kid. There is a possibility of having a step-father or divorced parent.

You're not one to conform easily and prefer to stay true to your unique self, even in social settings. Definitely, not a sheep.

You like to talk with strangers online and loves to spend time online. If afflicted, chronically online.

Sun in the 12th House: The spotlight is on you, but you’re hiding in the shadows—awkwardly shining in silence and doing some serious soul-searching!

You have a deep connection to your subconscious mind, offering insight into hidden aspects of yourself. This connection can bring about significant personal growth and spiritual awakening.

Could have had a relationship or a fling with a professor or teacher of some sort. Or was it just a crush?

You could shine by moving to other countries for studies or even work. You might feel like you don't belong here.

You could be working in a hospital, programmer, researcher, or just any "behind-the-scenes" jobs.

Have a tendency to avoid the spotlight. You might won't even show your face on social media.

Your father could be distant or could be that he is not there for you.

[bearforcecaptions]

It started innocently enough. A text buzzed on my phone at 7:00 AM sharp as I blearily smacked the alarm off my nightstand. I squinted at the screen, still half-asleep.

“You’ve been chosen. Reply YES to begin.”

Chosen? I assumed it was spam and set the phone down. I was 37, single, short, and covered in an unflattering layer of thick body hair. Years of poor diets and no exercise had left me chubby and soft. I looked like a man who had given up. What did “chosen” mean for someone like me?

Then the phone buzzed again. This time, the message seemed bolder, the text sharper against the screen:

“Reply YES to become who you were always meant to be.”

I stared at the words. A strange hum began in the back of my mind, faint but insistent, like an itch I couldn’t scratch. I hovered over the screen. I didn’t want to reply. I shouldn’t reply. But my hand moved as though it had a will of its own. I tapped out “YES” and hit send.

The phone vibrated immediately:

“Good choice. Time to begin. Lose the shirt.”

Lose the shirt? I frowned, unsure if I should laugh or scream. But then it happened—a prickling warmth that started at the base of my neck and spread across my shoulders, down my chest. I scratched at my skin, suddenly burning. The itching grew sharper, deeper, until it was unbearable.

I ripped off my shirt, my breath coming in quick gasps. My chest felt… lighter. I glanced at the mirror, my heart plummeting. My chest hair… it was receding, dissolving into my skin. I stepped closer. It wasn’t just my hair. My chest itself looked different. My pale, flabby pecs seemed firmer, the skin smoother, tanner. The skin stretched, my reflection shimmering slightly, like heat rippling in summer air.

“No,” I whispered, backing away. My voice sounded strange—lower, richer, but tremulous. My reflection flickered again. I swore I looked taller… straighter… but that couldn’t be right. My shadow on the wall stretched longer than I remembered, its proportions wrong. I blinked hard, but the distortion lingered.

The phone buzzed again. My hands trembled as I picked it up.

“Looking better. Go for a run. You need to move.”

A run? I couldn’t run. My knees wouldn’t take it. But even as I thought the words, the itch returned—this time in my legs, deep and unrelenting, like something inside me was breaking free. I looked down, horrified as my calves visibly tensed, the muscles rippling beneath my skin. My sneakers were by the door—were they always so spotless? So perfectly white?

The thought dissolved as my body moved of its own accord. I slipped them on, my fingers fumbling clumsily at the laces… but then they cinched tight, snug and perfect, as though molded to me.

The door opened as I stumbled outside. My feet struck the pavement. At first, my gait was uneven, unfamiliar… but the further I went, the easier it became. My steps lengthened. My legs stretched, bones and muscles expanding as I moved. I ran faster than I ever thought possible, faster than I ever could. The wind whistled past my ears. My thighs burned with an electric heat, and I felt them tightening, growing, swelling with strength I didn’t understand.

The world blurred around me, trees and cars streaking like paint on canvas. I caught a glimpse of my reflection in a parked car window—a tall, lean figure, chest heaving but strong, running effortlessly. My breath hitched. I almost tripped. That wasn’t me… was it? My short, squat legs had vanished, replaced by long, muscular limbs that moved with impossible grace. My face…

I forced myself to look away and ran harder.

When I finally stopped, I was outside a gym I didn’t recognize. It loomed in front of me, clean and sleek, its sliding glass doors glowing faintly under the morning sun. My phone buzzed again.

“Go in. Your session awaits.”

I wiped sweat from my forehead and turned to leave… but my feet wouldn’t move. The itch was back—in my arms, in my shoulders. My body ached to lift, to strain. I turned back to the gym. The doors slid open soundlessly as I approached, beckoning me inside.

The air hit me like a wave: clean, sharp, laced with the scent of iron and sweat. I should’ve been disgusted, but it felt grounding… familiar. I stepped inside. A receptionist—a guy I’d never seen before—nodded at me like I belonged there.

“Late today, huh?” he said with a grin.

I swallowed thickly, my throat dry. I didn’t know him, but his words didn’t feel wrong. My feet carried me to a locker in the back, where I found a bag waiting for me—a sleek black bag with my name stitched into the side. My name.

I unzipped it, pulling out a tank top and shorts, pristine and athletic. My trembling hands stripped my sweat-soaked clothes, my eyes darting to the mirror on the wall. My chest was different. Pecs pushed outward, hard and defined. My arms… smooth, tanned, veins threading their way up my forearms. I looked taller. My legs—thick, powerful, carved with striations I didn’t recognize.

The phone buzzed.

“Lift. Heavy. You know what to do.”

I didn’t question it. My body carried me to the racks, loading plates effortlessly. The barbell felt good in my grip—like it belonged there. Each lift was easy at first, then harder… but the burn was exhilarating. My body drank it in, my muscles swelling. I caught my reflection—a tall, confident man with a smirk I didn’t recognize. Was that… me?

When I left the gym, I didn’t feel scared anymore. The streets looked brighter, cleaner, as if the world had sharpened. My body hummed. I walked with a swagger I couldn’t stop.

At home—if it could still be called that—the apartment was unrecognizable. The grimy carpet and peeling wallpaper were gone, replaced by smooth hardwood floors and modern, minimalist walls in muted tones. The cluttered mess that once filled the space had vanished, replaced by sleek black and chrome furniture that screamed wealth and precision. A massive bed—king-sized with a perfectly ironed, deep green duvet—dominated the room, flanked by matching nightstands with tasteful lamps. Sunlight streamed through floor-to-ceiling windows I knew weren’t there before, giving the space an airy, expensive glow.

My heart pounded as I moved through the room, my footsteps softened by a plush rug that stretched across the floor. Gym equipment—a polished set of dumbbells and a weight bench—was arranged neatly in the corner, as if waiting for me. On the opposite side of the room, a gleaming shelf displayed protein powders, shaker bottles, and a row of vitamins like trophies. I froze, staring at the items, my mind foggy. None of this was mine… yet it felt like it always had been. A strange sense of ownership crept over me, erasing the last dregs of unease.

I ran a hand over the sleek surface of the dresser, where neatly folded gym clothes sat waiting—tanks, fitted shirts, athletic shorts. A faint scent lingered in the air—clean, musky, mine. I swallowed hard, my pulse slowing as the tension in my chest faded. It was all perfect. Better than I could have ever imagined.

I took a hesitant step toward the massive bed, its deep green duvet somehow inviting. My body ached from the workout, but it was a satisfying ache—a good kind of pain. Without even thinking, I sat down on the edge, the mattress firm but comfortable beneath me. A strange sense of ease washed over me as I sank back onto the pillows, legs stretching out across the bed as though I belonged there.

The sunlight streamed through the tall windows, warming my skin. I stared at the ceiling for a long moment, my chest rising and falling steadily. For the first time all day, I felt still—but not out of place. The tension I had been carrying, the lingering confusion, all of it seemed distant now, like something that didn’t matter anymore.

My phone buzzed on the pristine nightstand, breaking the quiet. I turned my head lazily, almost relieved to hear it, as though it grounded me in this new reality. I reached over, my fingers curling around it easily, the screen glowing faintly:

“Upload your selfie and forget you were ever anyone else.”

I sat back lazily on the bed, leaning onto one elbow as I stretched out, legs sprawled wide in front of me. My thighs—thick, strong, and defined—were framed perfectly by the tight black briefs I hadn’t even realized I was wearing, the fabric clinging to my body in all the right ways. My chest, still flushed from the workout, rose and fell steadily, every breath making the defined curves of my pecs stand out. The sunlight streaming through the window highlighted the smooth tan of my skin, making the faint lines of veins on my forearms and biceps look almost deliberate, like they belonged on a statue.

The corner of my mouth curled into a lazy smirk as I turned on the camera, the phone already in my hand, its weight feeling natural. The screen flashed to life, and the reflection staring back at me was perfect—a sharp jawline angled just right by the sunlight streaming through the windows, dark hair tousled messily yet somehow flawlessly, and eyes gleaming with a cocky, knowing confidence. My chest, still flushed from the earlier workout, looked broad and solid, the light casting faint shadows across the defined curves of my pecs.

I adjusted slightly, leaning back further into the pillows as I sprawled out, my thick, powerful thighs taking up the frame. The snug black briefs I wore clung perfectly to me, the fabric highlighting every inch of muscle—quads that looked carved from stone and calves flexed lazily. My legs spread wider as though by instinct, one foot, still clad in a clean white sock, resting casually in the foreground. The sunlight danced across the tanned, smooth skin of my forearms, catching on the faint veins threading up toward my biceps, which flexed subtly as I held the phone aloft.

I tilted the camera, ensuring the angle captured everything—my smirk, my body stretched across the bed, the sheer effortlessness of it all. It was perfect. I didn’t even need to think about it. The words slipped out, low and satisfied:

“Perfect.”

I snapped the photo, letting the moment linger for a second longer, and then uploaded it to Instagram without hesitation.

--

I toss my phone onto the bed and stretch, kicking my legs out and flexing absently. The day’s barely started, but the gym’s already done its work—my quads are still burning in the best way.

The group chat pings, and I glance at it, smirking. Plans for tonight? Always. I grab a water bottle off the nightstand, take a long swig, and flex my bicep without even thinking about it.

The sunlight feels good. I lean back, scratching idly at my chest. The world’s as it should be. Everything feels right.

[mcflymemes]

AS SAID BY GALE DEKARIOS *  assorted dialogue from baldur's gate 3

is that... is that truly you? i thought i might never see you again.

i love you, more than i've ever loved anyone. and you've proven your love for me in more ways than even the greatest mathematicians would dare to count.

you licked a dead spider. dead spider. you licked it. that is something that happened.

i think we need to get you some air and perhaps have a long talk about unresolved childhood issues.

stop licking the damn thing!

i see the art of eloquence is alive and well.

i'm awed, impressed, and a little bit scared of you right now.

nothing like a brisk stroll through the forest to invigorate the spirit.

i've never wanted to kiss you more than i do now.

right now, i need nothing more than a kiss.

tell me you feel the same way. tell me you want what i want. please.

i'll always have you.

you really would prefer me as i am?

do you doubt me?

you put the stars to shame.

let's sit here another while - i want to drink you in.

there you are.

you led me down this path.

i don't know myself anymore.

all this... it's not who i am. around you, i'm not who i want to be.

you really are absolutely heartless, aren't you?

i was hoping you'd spare me a moment.

this seems as good a time as any for me to stop babbling on.

i think you're rather wonderful. and that's not a word i waste on anyone unworthy of it.

go. enjoy your evening.

i like that about you. it's one of your rarer qualities.

i promise we'll make it work, if you'll have me.

what are you doing? stand back! now!

i thought i meant more to you than a sacrificial lamb. clearly i was mistaken.

you've brought me right where i need to be. i have no right to ask more of you.

you're plotting something, aren't you?

i go where you go.

i'm telling you, this is a mistake.

don't worry too much. a handful of powerful spells go a long way.

hold on! it's not too late to settle this without bloodshed.

mercy is not your strong suit, is it?

well... so much for my previous sentiment.

the choice is yours. there's really no good decision to be made here.

i'll be delighted to see you try... from a safe distance.

how generous of you.

there has to be a way to stop this thing!

i have no desire to end your life. you know that.

i see the glint in your eyes. you've a strategy in mind. the same one as me, i'd wager.

well, now that we know what it is, i suggest we leave it well alone.

better be careful around here.

i'll miss you, friend. your companionship has been quite the education.

i won't lie. i miss our group.

don't worry, i'll handle matters from here.

i'm ready. are you?

we must discuss it privately.

have you lost your wits? you must not do this!

we can't afford to let that happen.

they say madness and genius are separated by but a hair's breadth. perhaps the same is true of madness and stupidity.

you make me sound like some preening peacock.

i'm taking notes. making observations.

you're adorable even when you're teasing me.

you know what, i think i've clearly had far too much wine. and you've had nowhere near enough.

don't worry about me. i'm quite content to enjoy the party from here.

don't let me drag you away.

that, my friend, must remain a secret.

i do hope you know what you're doing.

might be the wine talking.

why am i doing this?

i'm sorry it had to come to this.

i'm going to bed. perhaps this was all a mistake.

careful. you don't know what i'm about to ask.

kill me, and i'll destroy the city anyway.

i want it to be perfect.

stay with me a while, will you?

i'm in love with you.

i'm many things, but coy's not one of them.

listen, i need to speak to you.

i might need you to be more specific.

i regret many things in life.

we all have our burdens, one way or the other.

i am as honored as i am enamored.

i am not the only one who longs for you... yet you chose me.

my time is yours. what do you need?

tell me, what can i do for you?

you need me?

you look... comfortable.

[rem-iniscing]

My shitshow relationship with food was radically altered by two wonderful tiktok creators, of whom I unfortunately cannot recall the name of at least one, as I am cursed with the memory retention of a goldfish, but to whom I still credit this knowledge to.

The first was surprisingly an L&D Nurse talking about the whole Formula vs Breastfed debate. Her stance? "Fed is best." Whatever that looks like, as long as that baby is getting its nutrients. Formula, parent's breastmilk, donated breastmilk, or some combination of them. It didn't matter. A happy fed baby was what mattered.

That was a game-changing thing to hear. Because that applies beyond babies. Big, full-grown humans need this mentality, too. As long as you are getting the nutrients you need?? Who cares! Get the cheeseburger if it means you'll eat something today. Put the cheese on your veggies and drown your salad in dressing. Some nutrients is better than none! Fed-! Is-! Best-!!!

The second paradigm shifting statement was from I think the marvelous Kylie Sakaida! Of whom said this: "Ask what you can add to your food to make it more nutritious, not what you can take subtract from it."

Nowadays, instead of feeling shame when I reach for something like ramen, I just ask myself what I can add to make this meal more beneficial for me. I add chicken. I add eggs. I add things like cheese, corn, mushrooms, broccoli, beansprouts, bamboo shoots, and a truck load of garlic! I add to it to make sure it benefits my body optimally. Those nutrients don't disappear just because it's going on cheap, prepackaged ramen.

Diet culture is fucking absurd! Humans need food in quantities enough to thrive, not just survive, and adding cheese doesn't magically cancel out the pre-existing nutritional value like some sort of yu-gi-oh card.

Also eating something for the purpose of making your brain happy (cake, ect) is still a good thing! Because you need to be happy to want to fucking live. This world takes enough joy from us. Enjoy what you can.

diet talk is so inexpressibly nonsensical the instant you know anything about "the human body" or "nutrition" or if you think about it for three seconds

[darkbluekies]

Valentines dates with the ocs♡

warnings: none<3

A/N: i found some times on my breaks to write something small, I hope you'll like it! I hope you're going to have a sweet Valentines, I'm going to study with a course friend and then go fika with my best friend from high school ♡

Silas:

This man is is sucker for dates and would have them every night if he could. Valentines day is his favorite, though, because it gives him a reason to go all out. He'd book an expensive restaurant and let you pick whatever you want from the menu. His men would be guarding every corner of the building.

"Why there are no prices in your menu? Why do you want to know the prices? Are you paying? Who am I kidding, of course you aren't. Silly thing, aren't you cute? I'm taking you out on a date, not the other way around. Pick something."

Dr Kry:

Spending valentines in a hospital is bad enough, but not being able to spend it with anyone is even worse. Dr Kry would act like your boyfriend. He'd come into the room with roses and a box of expensive chocolates and a small gift of some sort that he'd know you would appreciate.

"It's just me, unfortunately, but I hope i can make your day good enough, despite the circumstances. These chocolates, I've been told, are quite the deal. They're exclusive ones from Belgium. Cost me a bit but if they're tasty that's all that matters. And I hope you'll like the sketchbook and the pens i got you, I know how boring it can be in here sometimes. Draw me something, why don't you?"

King Edmund:

This man does not kid around when it comes to valentines day. He will gift you pearls, jewels, clothes, flowers, pets. He will shower you in all his suffocating love and if you dare to show the slightest bit of overwhelm he'll throw a tantrum. A perfect date for him would be something away from people's eyes, maybe take a trip on the royal yacht.

"It's nice to be away for a while, isn't it? Away from everyone lusting over you. Here, I can have you all to myself. I can't imagine a more perfect valentine's day. Do you like how I've decorated? Every flower in the kingdom has been cut and put in here, all for you."

Jerry:

Unlike the others, she detests Valentine's day. She doesn't believe in showing love once a year through capitalistic marketing tactics. Why should a teddy bear with an 'i love you' heart matter more than a normal teddy bear any other day of the year? Instead, she'd make Valentine's day into "your day" where you could choose a date and Jerry is not allowed to complain. This year, you've chosen a museum.

"What? No, I'm not making faces. I'm not complaining, baby, I'm just not understanding why a blob on a canvas is more popular than actual pieces of art. But if you like them, I do too."

Hedwig:

Hedwig's almost as bad as Edmund. She'll spend a fortune on gifts for you and cling onto you all day. She'll want you to match and will treat the entire day as a date. You'll go to amusement parks, cafés, restaurants, shops and eventually ending the day at her home where the two of you will have a cosy home date.

"I'm so happy, i love you so much. Valentine's day is my favorite day, did you know that? I love when people express love. And I love expressing my love for you. I'm so glad I can spend my Valentine's with you, I wouldn't want to spend it any other way."

[sgiandubh]

Shippers lose all credibility every time they send messages to places like Deuxmoi, with claims like CB is hiding her rings and hasn’t been seen with her husband for months—like, implying her divorce is imminent. It’s so obvious! It’s been ages since your friend SHwifey blogger announced with such excitement the news about a supposed Decree Nisi and nothing happened yet?🤥 let’s be real T&C are here to stay and a divorce ain’t happening.

Come on, we're not stupid, next time shippers are sending such nonsense to blind items sites at least try to cover it up a bit! And then they say the antis are the desperate ones...

By the way, how’s everything in Puffiland?"

Dear Deux Moi Anon,

Not my circus, not my monkeys, darling, and you know it. I don't know, nor care about what exactly happened, who dunnit and why. It still doesn't change anything to the fact McGill has been MIA for months now, and that yes, the very fact that you rushed in here to screech tells me it bothers you greatly.

Short, but firm reminder I shall not speak for any other blogger than myself, nor take responsibility for any content other than what I sign, seal and deliver on this page. However, you might want to brush up your expertise in British family law and see what the difference is between a decree nisi and a decree absolute. Even if the law changed in the meanwhile (2020 and enforced in 2022), the procedure I am about to describe and comment has not, assuming it started as stated, in 2020. Sidenote: the 2022 law does not change much to its essence, either. It just simplifies the grounds for divorce and leaves some unwanted uncertainty on the ways financial separation is dealt with by the applicants (formerly called 'petitioners').

Here, pumpkin, educate yourself. By the way, you should stop imagining that the entire world has the same rules and regulations on things: divorce is something that is dealt with very differently in the US, as compared to the UK, for example. But anyways, this is the most comprehensive and clear explanation I could immediately find online and it should be enough for you. Also, dutifully highlighted, just to piss you off, darling:

[Source: https://www.aticuslaw.co.uk/what-is-the-difference-between-a-decree-nisi-and-decree-absolute/]

In British legal practice, there is, in reality, no time limit for the decree nisi to remain on the court file, simply because, as the paper above strives to explain, the legislator is fully aware of the fact that it is not always quick, nor easy to deal with the consequences of a separation, such as a change of personal status or financial situation. The 12-months term is, in effect, deemed reasonable to get all the practicalities sorted out. But people are strange, like that: some may just linger complacently in a limbo, some take their time to go their separate ways, others are held by external pressure vectors that are entirely independent of their own will (*coughs*). However, there is no reason to deny the belated petitioners the right for a decree absolute and all it takes is a written Letter to Court, explaining the reasons of the delay. You just need to pay a good specialized solicitor and there are even templates galore to download and fill in, on the Internet. An example:

[Source: https://www.lexisnexis.co.uk/legal/precedents/letter-to-court-applying-for-decree-absolute-more-than-12-months-after-decree-nisi - you can imagine I won't be arsed to pay for the sake of someone like you asking. But you can also imagine the above letter primarily deals with exposing/justifying the reasons for the delay and any new events that may or may not have complicated the issue at stake, such as the birth of a child. ]

I trust this is straightforward enough, or do you need me to draw it to you?

So, there goes your completely false allegation that divorce was automatically implied as 'imminent'. Chop chop, to the scrapheap, with all the rest of you. Not my problem either, that (as always) you have no idea of what you are talking about. See, I am just analyzing some useful legislation, here. I don't read tea leaves, I am definitely not into that Lady of the Rings kremlinology club and I very rarely speculate on social media drama-drama. These being exactly the reasons why you guys seem to hate me with a passion. I don't, darling: I pity and despise you, in equal measure.

As for the current situation in Puffland, you can fuck right off and ask that woman yourself. I don't think she likes me and I can't say many nice things about her, either.

But funny how I, along with a couple of other shippers, seem to live rent free in your empty brains. Given the mentioned company, I feel honored.

[contentloadingandstuff]

What is a Husband's Role? - Liyue Girls x Male!Reader

A/N: Exams might be over for me, but now, of course, I got a notice that I have to submit myself to a military assessment, compulsory for all men in their 19th year of life. Wonderful. Anyway, enjoy! CW: None.

Question: Who is a husband to you? What is his role?

Beidou: Well, it's quite simple. Y/N is a tough guy, one that's not afraid of taking the world on his shoulders if need be. He handles things in my absence, keeping the Crux’s land-based businesses afloat. While I don't take him out to sea that much, I'd rather have him well and good just in case, he's more than adequate at running the fleet. Me? Heh, he always has my back. Whenever I drink, he stays sober and makes sure I'm taken care of and back home safely and he keeps my bunk warm at night. He's one hell of a man in the sheets too- Why are you blushing, eh? Not the kind of answer you expected? A gal has her needs, I'll have you know. 

Ganyu: My husband is the light of my life. Y/N treats me like a precious flower, tending to my needs and admiring me like the most beautiful thing in this world. When he holds me, he does so with utmost care and attention. His affection makes me feel safe and loved. Thanks to him, I learned to balance work and life again. But even when I'm on the clock, he visits me everyday for my midday nap. All of his support has been crucial for my self-esteem and my efficiency at work. Without him, I don't know where I would be today. Hm? T-too scientific…? I'm s-sorry, I've just been thinking about it a lot…

Hu Tao: Ah, yes! My partner in crime, my muse, and the man ensuring the continuation of the Hu bloodline! Aiya, whatever would my world be without him? It would be as bleak as the space between life and death, with me - a sad, wailing soul, eager to find the comforting warmth of another… I'm lucky enough to have it already. His role in this marriage is not just being my lover, but being my best friend too! He's always open to my shenanigans and eagerly listens to all of my poetic scribbles, praising me and giving constructive criticism in equal measure. Y/N is not deterred by my work, and never ever turns a cold shoulder towards me. He's there when I want to mess around, when I need help or when I just want to lay in his arms and twirl his hair. Mm, I can already picture our lovely heirs! I hope they'll have his eyes~. 

Keqing: I would like to confess something, if that is alright with you. Before I became a wife and a mother, I didn't truly understand what I was fighting for. I have been taught to work towards the preservation of an abstract idea of Liyue, a homogeneous mass of people and the land along with it. I fought for it, yes, but now I know that I didn't truly comprehend what Liyue is. When I first woke up alongside my husband and when I first held my daughter in my arms, I finally understood. I understood that I'm fighting for the people, not as some vague collective, but as individuals. I'm working and fighting for husbands such as Y/N, wives such as myself, and children like my own. I would give my life for my loved ones a hundred times over, and I can work twice as hard, knowing that I do so for the future of my family and every other family in Liyue. My husband opened my eyes, and for that, I am eternally grateful.

 

Lan Yan: Hey - that's no way to think about your beloved! Love is not inherently about being useful to each other, it's more about feelings and companionship. For example, I can't say that taking Y/N with me when picking rattan is making the process easier or faster; I could easily do it myself. But I invite him just to have him near. Hearing his voice comforts me, and to be honest, I've been by his side so long that I just feel… off without him. What if it stormed, or what if night caught me by surprise? He would be worried sick, I'm sure… Or what if I met a ghoul or a jiangshi while out? I m-mean, I have a Vision and everything, but is it wrong to feel safer around my big, strong husband?

Ningguang: I find it fairly obvious - he is to support me, to comfort me and to keep me company. If you would like a more personal take on the matter, I'd say that Y/N, for me, is a precious antique - surely the most valuable of all. His role is to be a feast for my eyes and my heart, nothing less, nothing more. I wouldn't want to drag him into my business, as that would be foolishly risking his life. His role is to satisfy my emotional and physical desires - after all, true fulfillment in these areas cannot be bought by Mora. 

Shenhe: Well, I learned that a husband's role is… Hm? You want me to answer in my own words? Oh, I see. Then… I used to think that a husband is meant to give his wife children. It is what I thought for most of my life, until I met Y/N. Y/N’s presence, his words and touch, cause a comforting warmth to spread through my chest. I learned that this is what love truly means. It's a sense of safety, but it is exciting all the same. I want him closer, but my usual dark visions do not appear in my mind. I do not feel the pressure of my soul straining against the red ropes. He calms me, he makes me feel safe. Now I understand the importance of having a soul to share one's life with. I understand now what the word ‘husband’ means. And I am… happy with Y/N by my side. 

Xinyan: I love Y/N because he honestly loves me for who I am. No matter if I rock and roll or feel in the mood for something softer, he'll jam out to it with me. And he's one hell of a guy, let me tell you! He's not afraid to go all in with me, no matter what. I thought about going on tour? He's there with me. I wanna save some Mora to upgrade my guitar? You guessed it, he pitches in as much as he can! I feel like stealing him and partying the night away? He never says no. That's the best man a gal can ask for!

Xianyun: Hmph. Are you implying One's choice of husband is poor? One will have you know that Y/N is of the finest sort - a body that would make the gods of old jealous and a mind that rivals One's own. It is the latter that’s of utmost importance - One doesn't see a husband as a mere nod-along, but as a man that is capable of challenging his wife's character and inciting her to grow. As such, don't be concerned by Y/N arguing my points at any point in time. It is what One desires, and loves about him the most. 

Xiangling: Ooh, where do I start! My hubby is the best sous chef in the world - he makes sure that the kitchen is stocked up, clean and well organised, letting me focus on my favourite part - cooking! Whenever I need to get ingredients, he takes my place in the restaurant. Sometimes we go out together to get some new ingredients and experiment a little. He's good at cutting up meat, hunting down that meat and defending me if any of my ingredients decides it wants to snack on me. And, when we camp for the night, his cuddles are just the best! Both my dad and Guoba approve of Y/N, so I suppose my taste in boys isn't that bad after all. 

Yelan: A woman my age, and in my line of work, can't be blamed for giving up and thinking she'll be alone until the end, right? That was the Yelan my husband met a few years back. And yet here I am today, a married woman. I knew I was missing out, but I just couldn't imagine how delightful it feels to have someone propping up my back - not for a mission, or a profession, but for life. My husband is my safety net. His arms are my hideout where I can rest from the stress of my daily work. I never want to lose him, which is why I have him stay low and always keep the eyes of my most trusted agent on him. Nobody is going to sneak up on my man - not while my heart still beats. 

Yun Jin: His use? Ah, I think I can answer that with a single word - adventure. I always dreamt of journeying across the outside world, and love is such a journey. Y/N is my companion on it, holding my hand whenever I feel scared or unsure, standing steadfast by my side. He lets me experience so many feelings and emotions I could only imagine before he took my heart… Hehe, stories of love I sing in opera don’t come close to experiencing a husband’s warmth yourself.  

Yanfei: Well, who else would listen to me ramble on about my passion other than my lovely Y/N? I swear, no matter how many versions or iterations of Liyue’s legal history I read out to him, he never gets sleepy! He even asks questions and actually remembers what each chapter was about, can you believe that?! Hehe, seriously now; he’s a great partner, both in life and in a discussion. Y/N makes some room in his schedule for visiting me at work every day of the week, and always brings some mean snacks with him. Oh - you have to try his crab cakes, they’ll blow your socks off! And who ever said that guys can’t cook, right? 

Thanks for reading!

[animereaderinsertwriter]

part one - two - three - four -five

i saw you in a dream (bucky barnes x reader)

tags/warnings: plot with porn, fluff, a little angst, there is some mild amnesia, major plot twist, first person (bucky's) pov, inspired by this song

blurb: In this life and every life; waking and dreaming; this I swear.

These are the words inscribed on Bucky's wedding ring. A wedding ring that he doesn't remember ever having. It's not a vow he made-- not that he remembers, anyway-- but it might just be one that he decides to keep anyway.

ao3 here

The sunlight is warm on my skin. It’s morning— late morning, by the angle of the sunlight, but still morning— and I feel my lover’s hand brush the hair from my face. My eyes are not yet open, but I can feel her gaze, her breath, even her smile behind the darkness of my closed eyelids. The mattress dips with her heated weight next to me, a familiar feeling that warms me from the inside out.

“Sergeant Barnes,” she lilts softly, her smile dancing in the sound of her words. “It’s time for breakfast. If you’d like to be up sometime before noon, now’s your chance.”

There’s only one thing that bothers me.

It shouldn’t be morning. It should be afternoon at the earliest. Last I remember, I was fighting— what’s new? I’m always fighting— and it was important this time. It was a fight for not only our lives but every life, an earth-shattering, world-ending battle for the future of humanity. I should be there fighting still. 

And besides, I have no lover. I don’t even know what gave me the idea that I did. 

I know enough of espionage to know when something is too good to be true. So, instead of revealing my wakefulness, I lie very still. I mimic the deep breathing of sleep and wait for her next move. 

“Bucky,” she beckons, her hand on my chest. “Bucky, I know you’re awake. Those breathing tricks don’t work on me anymore, you know that.”

Panic flares in my chest, but I force myself to stay still. How? I think. How does she know?

Her hand is warm against my chest, right over my heart. My overactive imagination envisions that warm hand burrowing, boring a hole through my chest plate and into my heart, crushing it in her grip—

“Oh well,” she sighs, her voice full of Loki’s own mischief. “I guess I’ll have to persuade you that waking is better than dreaming.”

Her hand moves. It travels down the center of my chest— my bare chest, I notice— her fingers lightly caressing through the hair at my stomach, travelling lower and lower until—

I snatch her hand away just before she reaches the waistband of my boxers. My eyes snap open, and with the silence of an assassin, I roll on top of her, capturing both of her hands at the wrist and pinning her legs with my own. She giggles— giggles!— the whole while, right up until the moment she sees my face. Trapped beneath me with nowhere to go, she stares up at me, smiling at first, then wide-eyed and sober. 

“Bucky? Honey?”

There is fear in her voice. It lands sourly on my ears, and I foolishly want to see her smiling again. I shake my head, trying to clear it. 

“What’s wrong?” she asks, and I’m shocked to note that the fear I’d heard is gone, replaced by a soft concern that’s echoed in the softening of her eyes. 

“Who are you?” I demand. 

“What? What do you mean, who am I?”

I tighten my grip on her wrists and force them to the bed.

“Answer the question.”

“Bucky, you’re scaring me,” she says, and her hands begin to tremble. 

“I don’t want to hurt you, but I will if you don’t tell me who the hell you are.”

Her expression hardens. 

“I,” she says with surprising indignation, “am your wife. And I’m starting to get real goddamn offended that my husband is threatening me in our marriage bed. I suggest you get a grip, James Buchanan Barnes, before I start to take it personal.”

I blink owlishly at her.

Wife?

Her hands are still shaking, but I can tell she’s getting angrier by the second. Intellectually, I know that I have her pinned and that there’s no way she can hurt me. Emotionally? I feel about thirty seconds away from experiencing a category four storm of righteous wifely fury that I know I shouldn’t fear, but fear anyway. 

 “Well?” she demands. “Are you going to let me up so we can talk this through like adults or are you going to continue trying to assault me?”

I don’t release her immediately, but I do take a look around me. The bedroom is neatly organized and done up in shades of slate blue and wheat gold. The big window to my right is open, allowing the breeze to tango with the sheer white and gold curtains that hand from a sturdy gold rod. On the walls are photos of my friends— Steve, Shuri, T’challa, and others— and on the nightstand next to the bed, there is a photo of a bride and a groom holding hands in front of a place I recognize. It is a secluded place along a Wakandan lakeside, with grass so green it looks like shattered emeralds and water so blue that it seems only melted, watery sky.

That place— it is my favorite place in all the wide world. If I were ever to be married anywhere, that would be the place I would choose to be married at. 

The woman beneath me— my wife— follows my gaze, and I can feel her muscles relax, softening in my grip.

“Wakanda,” she murmurs. “Do you remember that, our wedding day? The grass stains on my dress, the way Steve cried and T’challa got so drunk that he tripped over his own feet at the reception while trying to Cupid Shuffle? Surely you do— Tony Stark laughed so hard he threw up.”

“No,” I tell her truthfully before I can think to stop myself. “What’s a Cupid Shuffle?”

I look back down at her, and her expression goes all pinched.

“I think we might better call Steve,” she says gently, brows creased in concern. “You love the Cupid Shuffle.”

***

According to Steve, I do not love the Cupid shuffle. Quite the opposite, in fact. I detest the song so much that my wife— who I still don’t remember— had apparently been trying to shock me out of my state of amnesia by claiming I did. When that didn’t work, she brought me here, to S.W.O.R.D.’s headquarters— whatever the fuck that is. 

Out of curiosity, I ask Steve to show me this Cupid Shuffle, and he’s absolutely right. I hate the song, and the dance looks stupid. The idea of T’challa falling over trying to do it is so cringe that my bones feel nauseous just thinking about it. 

“He did, though,” Steve reiterates, the shit-eating grin on his face no less bright for the ugly blue fluorescent lighting of the infirmary. He just loves it when he knows a reference before I do. “The night you were married, we were all so happy that nothing was embarrassing. Maybe I’m a sap, but… it felt a little like magic.”

Married. So even Steve seems to think I am, but I don’t feel very married. Even as I look around at the stoic, sterile infirmary around me, I feel like there is a battlefield I should be on, a war I should be fighting.

My inner turmoil must be apparent on my face, because Steve moves closer, speaks softer.

“Believe me,” Steve says, putting a big hand on my shoulder. “You love her, Buck. No matter how many years you’ve lost, you’ll remember it in your bones if you give her a chance.”

The crazy thing is, I believe him. 

She’s sitting on the other side of the glass window that separates us, chatting with Pepper Potts. Miss Potts, Steve told me, is now Mrs. Stark, and when I’d asked him why she felt okay associating with us after all that happened, he’d told me that they’d all made up a long time ago. Even now, I’m relieved for that; as grateful as I am that Steve chose me over his Avenger friends, I have always questioned whether or not I was worth the trade. To know that all is set to right between the two sides is comforting.

My wife laughs at something Pepper says, grasps her hand with a smile. As I study her, I come to an obvious realization.

“She’s beautiful,” I tell Steve. “That’s got to count for something, I guess.”

If I’m being honest, it counts for a lot, but I don’t want to seem shallow. Even at this distance, her smile is charming; I remember being up close and personal with that smile this morning, and I know that her eyes have that shine to them that says she’s as sweet as she is mischievous. Her nose is a graceful outward slope against her profile, and her lips, while predisposed to pouting, seem soft, well-shaped, and supple. And as for the rest of her… 

I try hard not to think about the way she’d pulled off the oversized— the me sized— t-shirt that she was wearing to change into something decent to wear. At the sight of her bare skin, I had been possessed of a strange and terrible urge to lick her from head to fucking toe before she managed to put real clothes on and show me where my clothes were. I shudder at the memory.

“I told you,” Steve says, “You love her. Only love can make a man look so green about the gills. You had the same look on your wedding day.”

I really, really can’t think about that right now. 

“So… we really beat Thanos?”

“Yep. Five years ago. We all did the whole Avengers thing and, you know, assembled.” Steve shrugged. “It was a close call, but between all of us we managed to cut off Thanos’s hand before he could use the glove and his head before he could do any more damage. The old one-two, as it were.”

I don’t remember that at all. I tell him what I last recall— fighting Thanos in the Wakandan jungle, a mad melee for our lives. 

“That’s about how it happened,” Steve nods, “except Tony was there, fighting with us. Don’t you remember him?”

I shake my head. I don’t remember, but battles are like that sometimes. Things get confused, chaotic— I might have been so busy fighting for my life that I just didn’t notice him swooping in to assist. I relate this to Steve, and he nods thoughtfully. 

“It may be. In any case, I think I know why your memory is spotty. Who knows what’s gonna come back on the scans they took, but, I’ve gotta be honest”— Steve’s ears turn pink, so I know he’s really embarrassed— “You and I were training yesterday, testing out the new battle simulator here at S.W.O.R.D., and uh… I hit you in the head pretty hard with the shield.”

He looks away, shamefaced.

“I’m sorry, Buck.”

It is a terrible and unnatural thing to see Captain fucking America wilt like an overwatered magnolia. I take my oldest and dearest friend by the arm and tell him exactly what he needs to hear.

“Steve. Do not ever be sorry for anything that happens to me because of you. No, no, no, don’t look at me like that— every day that I’m alive and in my right mind is a day I borrowed from you. You should have killed me when I came off the ice with a mission to kill you.”

“I would never,” he protests.

“My point exactly. I don’t deserve you, Steve.”

“But you do.” His expression is pained. “You do, and you deserve this life you’ve made for yourself too, and I’m the reason you don’t remember it.”

Oh, boy. Thick as ever, that skull of his.

“The only reason I have this life is because you risked yours to give it to me, so cut the shit.” I think for a moment, then add, “Besides, we don’t actually know if you hitting me caused any memory loss. My skull is pretty thick, I’m sure it’s been through worse. It could be that so much time on ice, all the deprogramming, and stuff… it could just be that my brain has been through too much.”

It’s a sobering thought. We sit together in silence for a moment, letting that one sink in.

“In any case,” Steve says, “the scans won’t be back for a few days. What do you plan to do in the meantime?”

I don’t know. I’m a stranger in a strange land.

“Would it be bad to just… pretend nothing happened? If I already have a house, I could just… stay there with…”

It occurs to me that I don’t know my wife’s name.

“With (Y/N)?”

I nod.

“Yeah. With her. I mean, if she doesn’t mind.”

I feel myself flush. She might mind after this morning… I seem to remember pissing her off. Hurting her. Scaring her. I wouldn’t want me in my house if I was in her shoes.

“I’m sure she won’t. It might be… upsetting to her because you don’t remember, but she’s tough. More than that, Buck, you should know she takes her vows very seriously. When she said for better or for worse, she meant it. This is nowhere near the ‘worse’ she would endure for you. She loves you.”

“I’m starting to get that,” I say as I make awkward eye contact with her through the glass. “I could get used to it, I think. Being loved by somebody like her.”

“Take it from me,” Steve grins, “you’ll never get used to her.”

I’ve known Steve for many, many years, but I still can’t parse the meaning of that mischievous look in his eyes. 

I am so, so out of my depth here— but that has ever and always been so. I was out of my depth as a kid in a war, then again as a man trapped inside an assassin, and again as a human soldier in a war of heroes, aliens, and other magical freaks of nature. I can navigate my way out of this one just as well as the others, I tell myself. It’s only a matter of compartmentalization. 

“Ready to get going?”

My old friend holds a hand out to me. With a bravery I do not feel, I take his hand and let him help me down from the exam table.

“Ready as I’m gonna be.”

“You got this, soldier.”

“Sure, Steve. Whatever you say.”

We walk together to rejoin my wife and Pepper Potts— Stark, I remind myself. My wife stands, and by the way her brows forcibly smooth and a smile thinly blankets her former worried frown, it’s clear that she’s troubled. Pepper stands next to her and squeezes her shoulder in a silent gesture of support. 

“Well, I don’t know about everyone else,” says (Y/N), “but I’m starving. Anyone down for brunch?”

Steve shrugs. 

“I could eat. Pep?”

“I’m famished. I skipped breakfast to get Morgan to school on time, and it’s nearly lunch now.”

All eyes turn to me. I’ve never thought of myself as bashful, but being the center of attention at this present moment feels very similar to having my bare ass cheeks sitting on hot asphalt.

“Brunch is good. Where to?”

“Bagels on 32nd?” (Y/N) suggests.

“Fine by me.”

“Nothing better.”

Jesus fuck— they’re all looking at me again. If I could melt into a puddle, I would.

A small, soft hand reaches out to mine. My wife looks at me with a fondness that makes my chest ache. I hadn’t thought my discomfort to be so transparent, but it’s clear that she’s trying to comfort me. My heart lurches in my chest, but my body relaxes ever-so-slightly as she squeezes my hand. 

“Bagels it is,” I manage, and then we all set off to walk together for a couple blocks. 

On the brief walk, Steve and Pepper walk ahead of us, chatting about Morgan— who I surmise is Stark’s daughter— and (Y/N) and I hang back. She’s quiet, reserved, and perhaps a bit nervous, but half a block into our walk, she turns to me and says,

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable earlier.” She looks up at me sheepishly. “You just seemed a bit frazzled, and I wanted— well, what I mean is, I just did what I would normally do, but I realize that things with us— well, things in general, but also with us— are not exactly normal right now, so in hindsight I could have just made it all worse instead of helping you feel, uh, less frazzled, so I’m really sorry if—”

I stop her there. The rambling is cute, but I’m starting to get the feeling that she’s going to work herself into hysterics if I let her keep going.

“I didn’t mind. Your normal— our normal— is good, I think.” 

She shuts up then. I can feel her eyes burning holes into my face, but I dare not look down to meet her gaze. 

We walk a ways further, and I ask her about the bagel place, what she usually gets, what the options are. She tells me her order, then hesitates. Sensing this hesitation, I make a guess at what she’s thinking and ask what my usual order is. She relaxes a bit, then tells me, and it seems right— both the order and the conversation.

“Now, there is some lore about this bagel place that I should probably mention.”

“Oh?”

“Yes.” Her tone is light, but she seems terribly interested in the brick wall of the building next to us. “Mrs. Dolores Finch is a regular there. I don’t suppose you remember Dolores?”

“Nope.”

“Ah. Well, she’s taken quite a shine to you— well, to both of us, really. She was quite taken with you when you rescued her cat out of a tree next to the cafe— the cat had slipped its harness, though how that fat furball managed to do that is beyond me— and once she got over her phase of trying to split us up and pair you with her granddaughter, she became… tolerable.”

She finally risks a sideways glance at me, gauging my reaction, then refocuses her eyes ahead of us.

“She will try to pinch your bum, though. I’ll do my best to run interference, but she’s surprisingly agile for someone her age.”

I try to imagine such a scene— a game of keep-away with my ass as the prize— and fail spectacularly.

“Thanks for the warning. I’ll be on guard for bum pinches.”

The rest of the way to the bagel place, we walk in silence, and I worry quietly about being ass-ambushed. I know there’s no reason to get so worked up, but the thing about being a soldier and an assassin is that a high-functioning anxiety disorder will keep a fella alive more often than it kills him. And sometimes, like it or not, the thing your brain deems anxiety-worthy is an old lady and her cat. 

Can’t win ‘em all, I suppose.

We stop in front of an old brick building. It’s rustic and charming on the outside, and on the inside it’s full of soft golden light and old— like, really old, like me old— jazz music playing out of a Bluetooth speaker on a nearby shelf.

My wife elbows me gently as we approach a table, and her mouth molds itself into a smile.

“Good morning, Dolores,” she says with more fondness than I had anticipated. “How are you today?”

Dolores is a short old woman with gray hair covering what once was all auburn tresses. I can tell this because unruly bits of it peek out from beneath her frankly outrageous hat. The hat is giant, roughly the size of a large serving dish, and features what I can only assume is not one, not two, but three taxidermied cardinals on it. At her feet, the biggest, orange-ist cat I’ve ever seen is sprawled out in a patch of sunlight streaming in from the window, trying his damndest to wriggle out of his neon green reflective cat harness. 

“Oh, my bones ache, but what else is new,” says Dolores with a put-upon sigh. When she looks past (Y/N) and and makes eye contact with me, her eyes light up with a nefarious grin that I’ve only ever seen on evil megalomaniacs right before pressing a big, red button. “Oh, and you’ve brought my darling boy to me! How wonderful! Oh my days, you won’t believe all the things that have fallen into disrepair around the house, why only this morning the garden hose—”

“Dolores,” (Y/N) smoothly interjects, placing a hand on Dolores’s shoulder. “Bucky isn’t feeling well these days. We just came to grab a quick bite and go home. I hope that’s alright.”

Dolores frowns. Her brown eyes go impossibly sad, and she leans closer to my wife to murmur,

“Is it… y’know… the war?”

It doesn’t take much to imagine which war she means— certainly not the war I was actually in. But still, given my metal arm and general disposition, it’s a valid assumption for her to have made. Despite my age, I haven’t gone very far from that army boy, lost, alone, and scared as hell.

(Y/N) looks back at me, then murmurs,

“Something like that.”

Dolores nods to herself.

“Well. Nothing to do for it but weather it, dearie. My own husband George, God rest his soul, was in the Air Force in 1939 when the war started, and honey when he came back, it was rough going, I tell you, really rough.”

With a start, I realize that Dolores is probably not too far in age from myself. 

“But you’re a strong girl,” she continued, “and he’s a good man.”

Her eyes move to me, and then she says,

“And Bucky, my dear— let this sweet woman take care of you. Oh, I know it’s hard, but you’ll get through it. Lean on her when you can’t stand on your own, and if she can’t hold you up anymore, just sit down and ride it out together.”

She holds out a hand to me, and I take it. Her skin is old and frail, but softly textured to the touch. 

“There you are, dear. I do wish you well. I really do. I’ll let you go.”

I nod. My wife gives our goodbyes, and just as I turn to follow her in the direction of our friends, I feel a pinch on my left ass cheek to rival the very wrath of God.

I whirl around, but Dolores is sipping her coffee, as innocent as a rattlesnake in a rose bush.

“Sorry,” (Y/N) says once we’re out of earshot, clearly embarrassed. “I really thought she was gonna let you have that one.”

“You were right,” I tell her with a wry grin. “She really is agile for her age.”

We rejoin Steve and Pepper, who rib me about Dolores’s antics before we all tuck into our food. The bagel I ordered— a recommendation from my wife— is spectacular, and it’s gone before anyone else’s is even halfway eaten. We sit and chat for a rather long while, and I find it surprisingly easy to be genuine with these people. They seem to understand me as well as they understand each other. It’s such a pleasant experience that I’m almost sad when we all have to leave.

“Will you all come over for dinner soon?” Pepper asks us, tucking her chair back under the table. “Tony’s been rotting in the garage for too long and could use the company.”

“We’ll be there,” Steve says with his signature boy-scout smile, and I nod in agreement.

“I’ll text you later and schedule, then. We all good to go?”

We all agree and say our goodbyes, and then we head out into the late afternoon sunshine. Pepper and Steve turn back to the direction of S.W.O.R.D. headquarters. (Y/N) and I set off in a different direction. She takes us through a path that is unfamiliar to me, but clearly well-trodden by her; within a few minutes, we arrive at the same place I’d started this Freaky Friday-esque day. 

Our home.

It’s smaller on the outside than it seemed on the inside. The exterior is a creamy white stucco, and the roofing is the color of freshly-turned clay. The lawn is small but well-manicured, and a small rock structure bubbles with water— a fountain, I realize.

It’s like something out of a dream. Even when my hand touches the handle of our door, the whole place just doesn’t feel real.

Once inside, I begin to take notice of the layout, the design of the home. The hardwood floors are a gorgeous cherry shade; as we move to the living room, though, most of that hardwood is covered and protected by a Turkish rug that I know must have cost thousands of dollars.

So, I think, not only are we a happy couple, my wife and I, but we’re also well-off.

Looking around at all the photos, artwork, and knickknacks makes my head spin with the sheer amount of information that my mind is trying to absorb. In the living room, there is a photo of me with Tony Stark, standing in his garage and holding something with my metal hand that would obviously be too hot to hold otherwise; an eyeball that I can only hope is glass sits on a shelf next to a picture of a raccoon— Rocket, I recall— and a note that reads, just in case. There are dozens of these things in my immediate line of sight. I can hardly breathe for taking in every detail.

As I observe my surroundings, it becomes painfully clear that I have happened upon a world where I am not used, not tolerated, but cherished

In this world, it seems that I am very rich indeed.

But I cannot fathom this world, not right now. It is all too much at once. I feel awkward once more— ashamed, almost, and most certainly out of place. 

“I need to go for a walk.”

The words are out of my mouth before I’ve thought them through, but the truth of the statement I have made is not mitigated by its impulsivity. I know myself enough to know when I need space— and right now, when my old, brainwashed life seems preferable to having to face my own reality not as a voyeur, but as an active participant, I know it’s time to gain some fucking perspective.

I look at my wife, who has, in the meantime, curled up on the couch and begun to read. She looks back at me and says with utmost gentleness,

“I know. Take as long as you need. Don’t forget your phone in case you want to crash at Steve’s or— or something.”

There’s no confusion or concern in her voice— so I surmise that this has happened before. I had wondered why she hadn’t spoken at all or invited me to sit. In retrospect, it seems that she had expected this eventuality. Like she knows me well enough to know that I would need space to process this. 

It is a terrible thing to be known so intimately by someone that you don’t know at all. With just this one exchange, my wife has managed to make me feel both an aching fondness and a terrible inadequacy. 

I don’t know her the way that she knows me. I certainly don’t know what she needs right now. But, judging by the sadness in her eyes, it’s not me deciding to fuck off for a while. A sacrifice, then— her comfort for mine.

I won’t forget it, and I am grateful for it… but I just can’t look at her any longer.

“Thanks.”

I do take my phone— which I barely know how to operate, dammit— and set out for a brisk walk around the neighborhood. The activity does wonders for my building headache. Despite my wife’s warning, I don’t anticipate being out more than half an hour. In the end, though, she’s right. I don’t even think to turn back until the sun is setting and I’m still miles from where I started. By the time I return, the stars are up and the moon is out, but as I open the front door to my home, I find that I’m much more centered.

Sure, I’m out of my depth— but I’ve always been out of my depth. Sure, I’ve lost some memories— but how much different is that really from having lost so many years to the ice? The end result is the same: I have to move forward with the time that I do have. 

And as for my wife…

Some version of me loved this woman enough to promise my life to her; some version of me loves her so much that Steve insists that I always will love her. I trust my own judgement, and I trust Steve’s. To see the evidence of that good judgement, all I have to do is look around at photographs on the walls, in my phone, and around the house. In nearly every photo, I am smiling. It is so clear that in this life that I have forgotten, I have been loved and treasured and accepted beyond anything I could have imagined for myself. It would be an injustice for me to turn away from it. It would be an act of such unimaginable ingratitude that the thought of leaving disgusts me.

The living room is dark except for a single lamp. My wife is stretched out beneath the light of that lamp, a hardback book nudging into her sternum as she holds it tightly in her sleep. She is so beautiful like this that I imagine her to be an angel, glowing and golden. The only thing that mars the illusion is the presence of tear-tracks, little stains that cut jagged lines down either of her cherubic cheeks. 

I pry the book gently from her hands. There is a mark against her chest where the corner had dug into her soft flesh, and I wish that there was something I could do to soothe that skin, to make it as if nothing had marred it. Instead, I find pillows and a blanket and cover her, adjusting her body so that she won’t have a crick in her neck from sleeping awkwardly. That done, I step back and admire my handiwork.

Oh yes. Much better.

Now, she looks much more human— but also much more comfortable. I’ll take that over otherworldly beauty any day of the week.

I turn towards the bedroom I woke up in this morning. My stomach growls, but I ignore it. Food can wait. I’m exhausted.

I strip down to my boxers, face-plant, and sleep, dreamless, for nine solid, delightful hours.

[florencebirdsong]

Could I request Agatha + Rio + Deaf!Fem reader?? I was thinking of possibly they learned how to say I love you or something meaningful to sign to Reader..or something along the line of them being protective of reader on their date because people are quick to judge reader because she is loud without realizing it..

( I would like to say that I am a irl deaf person myself so I would love this!!)

Yes, I can! I only know super basic Auslan. Like the stuff you’re encouraged to learn in multiple languages (hi, how are you, I’m good, finger spelling, where’s the bathroom, I love you, help, hospital, etc) and I don’t know which sign language you use so I’ve kept the actual sign language descriptions vague. I hope that’s okay :) Please enjoy!

Valentine’s Day Event 2025

Tags: annoying man, small moment insecurity, ficlet

Authors note: sorry the bickering isn’t actually written at the start. I’m trying to keep these as ficlets and those two could go for pages

You watch fondly as Agatha and Rio’s hands fly as they sign. Their bickering-like banter easily picking up your mood. The start of the year has been rough but tonight is just what you need. A romantic dinner at a fancy restaurant that you’re going to leave far too early to go and find something much more unhealthy to eat.

A particularly witty response from Rio has you snort a laugh. Agatha quips back just as fast and you laugh freely. She winks at you before turning a smug look on Rio, who would look annoyed if it weren’t for the smile tilting the edge of her mouth.

Both of their faces drop at the same time and it takes you a moment longer to realise a man has stopped by your table and interrupted you all. He looks agitated, his gestures sharp and his features hard. He’s on the other side of the table from you and clearly only addressing your two girlfriends. You can’t tell what he’s upset about and you watch Agatha and Rio for any indication of this becoming a serious altercation. Relaxing when they only look slightly madder than usual, you wonder what the man is talking about. They both seem more pissed off than their usual reaction to being hit on by a man, even when being interrupted during a special dinner. But it is Valentine’s Day. Surely the man has some clue?

They continue to sign when they respond to him but you still can’t glean what exactly this is about. Only that they seem to be about to chew him out.

“No one asked,” Agatha snaps, her hand movements short and sharp.

You tap the table to get Rio’s attention. The dark look means she needs to be distracted. Agatha may be vindictive but Rio is merciless.

“What’s happening?” you sign.

“He thinks we’re being too loud,” she signs back. “Like he hasn’t been bellowing for the last half hour.”

Your eyebrows furrow, suddenly self-conscious. It’s been a long time since you’ve felt badly about being too loud, but for it to be bad enough for someone to try and interrupt a romantic dinner…

Rio taps the table within sight of your dropped gaze. You reluctantly look up.

“He’s been shouting half the night,” she reminds you. “It’s not your fault. Don’t apologise,” she adds pointedly.

Your eyes flick to Agatha, whose disgusted scowl is directed at the man’s retreating back. She notices your gaze and her face immediately softens.

“You know the study, dear,” she signs. “Women speak up slightly more and men think they’re dominating the conversation. I’m sure it’s the same for volume.”

You nod, hesitantly. Knowing you aren’t likely to stop thinking about it without a distraction, Rio stands up suddenly.

“I want cheap chocolate in stupid shapes,” Rio declares.

Agatha doesn’t take any more prompting. She picks the napkin from her lap and flings it onto the table. Rio holds her hand out to help you out of the chair. You all have finished eating and you haven’t even glanced at the dessert menu yet so you don’t feel too badly about taking Rio’s hand.

“Such a gentleman,” you sign after she helps slip your coat on.

Agatha steps closer to you both and signs without shame, 

“I doubt you’ll be saying that once she has you in bed.”

“Nope,” Rio agrees with a sharp smile. “But chocolate first.”

You don’t even glance at the man on your way out.

[abbysimsfun]

Zion Spangler for @riverofjazzsims' A Holiday to Die For!

Hi! My, uh, my name's Zion Spangler, and my coworkers encouraged me to audition for this Holiday to Die For, as ominous as that sounds. They reminded me it can't be much worse than what I deal with at my day job, and I'm 27. Am I in my mid-20s or my late-20s? I don't know what, but I'm starting to feel like I've been holding myself back a bit from finding the right person to share my life with.

I'm not a big dater - I'm married to my job as one of Brindleton PD's finest detectives, and when I clock out, I usually drive a bit out of town to dance all night in the club. I love a bangin' DJ, and maybe I've banged a few DJs in my time! (looks offscreen) Should we cut that? I mean, it's not like I do it all the time. Sure, I've got kinks and I'm bringing my Sasquatch suit just in case, but I'm not that guy, you know? I like to be respectful.

More after the cut because editing said cut...

I'm sorry. There were free drinks in the waiting room and I haven't let loose lately. I'm so rusty. Ask me anything, I dare you! Okay, I'll tell you: I grew up with Mormons and have dreams about living as a spellcaster sometimes. I don't know where they come from, but life can get stressful and in those dreams I get to fly, so I like having them.

We just put this really big case to bed involving a cartel and a body in the Bay, so I really could use a vacation. My coworkers think it's cute that I'm the only single detective on the force and try to set me up any time we go to the Salty Paw after work. But the girls and guys in Brindleton Bay aren't really my scene, and I'm kind of excited to dance the night away with Winter.

What is there to know about me? Well like I said, I'm a detective, married to my job, I'm unflirty, cheerful, and a dance machine. I have level 5 skill in dancing, level 4 fitness, and level 4 logic. I'm bi sometimes, but I don't really put labels on it. You just lock eyes on the dance floor and you don't even need to flirt. You just know.

Favourite Colour: Blue, White (but keep Yellow away from me!) Height: 5'10" What Makes Me Naughty: vibing on the dance floor What Makes Me Nice: when people aren't breaking the law!

I smuggled in a third everyday outfit because, like I said, it's a sasquatch suit. Just in case. *Detective outfit pictured above not included*

My likes and dislikes are plentiful because I'm particular. It's why I'm single!

That's probably good enough for now. Hopefully, Winter likes what she sees, and she and I can see if we vibe on A Holiday to Die For!

Private download for @riverofjazzsims. (I don't use a lot of sliders and made his height up, but if you want to use them, do it! Pretty sure I'm sending him off to die because how do unflirty sims win BCs, so he's yours to toy with as you see fit!)

[revolvinghell]

oh good we're doing this.

What your favorite Will Wood song says about you!! and if i dont say yours feel free to let me know

Where do you get off?: either asexual or VERY horny, no in between.

The Song With Five Names: you REALLY like to confuse people when they ask about your favorite song. You also need some of that Old Time Religion.

Front Street: you probably watch the 2019 bbq videos on repeat. Also, drugs.

Chemical Overreaction: in the words of blake jennings: lsd is not a hobby. no, neither is screaming.

Mr Capgras: youre cool! but maybe work on those trust issues.

Blackboxwarrior OKULTRA: do you even understand half of this song?? Genuine question, I want to know.

Cotard's solution: lemme guess. You have unmanaged anger issues that you manage to suppress, until you have a bad day, and then the doorknob is enough to make you punch a hole through your wall. …same.

Vampire Reference: YOU ARE COOL. I am biased, but you are COOL.

2012: you probably lose yourself a lot. and say "fuck" a lot, that too.

2012 (again): you call this music.

Laplace's Angel: i have nothing to say. theres such a wide array of Laplace's Angel fans that it's impossible to pinpoint similarities.

I/Me/Myself: 💅

Aikido: you probably played this on valentines day. My only question is: why do you think this is an acceptable love song?

Bones: not a day goes by where this song isn't stuck in your head.

Destroy to Enjoy: anger issues, hating religion, did i miss anything? oh right. CONSTRUCTION SOUNDS

The First Step: admit you have a problem. will wood is not a coping mechanism either, by the way.

2econd 2ight 2eer: you quote this song every time you leave a room. STOP IT.

6up 5oh cop-out (pro/con): you hate police. but this song is about getting arrested for drunk driving.

You liked this (okay, computer!): this is a total shot in the dark, but you either hate the internet or want to be a cult leader.

Any 2018 demo: you like this more than the original song. And you're gayer.

Memento Mori: mm, how's that existential crisis going today? On schedule? Good? Okay. Go to therapy.

Red moon: …do you exist??

…And if I did, you deserved it: youre probably an artist of some kind.

Tomcat Disposables or Euthanasia: you could benefit from lexapro. Or any other antidepressant for that matter.

to be continued lol

[ambrosiaflower]

I was listening to "I Don't Smoke" by Mitski and I couldn't help but think about Thomas Hewitt. There's something about that song that makes me think of him. Especially the lines:

Just don't leave me alone wondering where you are

I am stronger than you give me credit for

I feel that this can be taken in 2 ways. 1) his fear of losing his family of 2) how he'd feel if he had a S/O.

Thomas has been a victim of bullying and of his own mind. He has insecurities about his face, his mental state, and you could make the argument that he could also be insecure about his size. (Considering he towers over almost everyone he comes across. Its another thing that makes him different from most people.) He has to be strong and he knows he is. He also knows that he is the only able bodied member of his family. He knows they rely on him for a lot of things. If something happened to him the family would suffer. He'd be as strong as he could for them, if they asked him to be stronger then he'd find a way to be stronger for them.

If Thomas had a S/O he'd be terrified of the idea of them leaving. He probably need a lot of reassurance from his partner that he is good enough, that he is worthy of love, that he's not some brute. While I don't know if he'd try to keep his partner in the house locked away in the Hewitt house, assuming that he had met his partner through his job or somewhere in town, I do believe he'd want his partner within his line of sight. Once again, I feel like he would need a lot of reassurance from his partner. He'd need to be both told and shown that he is good enough as he is. I don't think that verbal reassurance would be enough for him. He'd been called all sorts of nasty things both to his face and behind his back. As his partner you'd have to dedicate time to show him that he is worthy of love.

Maybe I'm just relating too much to him and maybe slightly projecting onto him but I feel like over all I'm pretty spot on.

The lines:

If you need to be mean

Be mean to me

I can take it and put it inside of me

This section of the song makes me think about when he was being fired form the slaughter house. When that one guy called him a "dumb animal" he chose not to attack that guy. He seemed to have hesitated and contemplated hurting the man before putting the knife down and walked away. It was only when his boss insulted his family when he acted out violently. He killed the man not because the boss insulted him, but he insulted his family.

I think about Thomas a lot... I'm sure that is obvious with how much Tommy content I have been reposting lately. I see some of myself in him, obviously not the cannibalistic murderer part but in how he interacts with the world and some of his other characteristics.

I'm sorry if this seems disjointed or if it doesn't make a whole lot of sense. I just needed to get this out of my head. Let me know if ya'll agree with me or if ya'll have any differing opinions in the comments. :)

[kraro-school-life]

Life Update! I am alive (more than ever)

Gosh it´s been a while. And with that I mean like a week lmao. Some of the highlights: (aka. the after exam craze)

birthday party with the girls until late (we cooked chili sin carne)

then the next day waking up at 6am to catch the train to go skiing with 6 friends and having so much fun

doing the philosophy homework at ass o´clock on the overcrowded DB (train) floor, because I procrastinated too hard

(gotta say philosophising on the train floor at night with 7 energy-high teenagers myself included wasn´t the apre ski I wanted but the one I deserved.)

meeting a friend I haven´t seen in 8 months and gossiping like CRAZY at a cafe

doing a lot of artsy stuff

deep cleaned my room and especially my desk!

after not sleeping enough for a week finally being able to just sleep as much as I want

Some of the "projects" I have going on the rest of the school year:

designing and making the yearbook for our year

designing the logo and marketing for a sustainability project in school

figuring out uni and life stuff (first choosing what to even study TT)

the main quest - aka. graduating high school with a very good grade (hopefully nailing the abi = making a timeplan for studies)

the side quest - aka. making a lot of art :)

Plans for this weekend:

philosophy homework

math practice

economics homework

notes and study for geography test

and more

[olderthannetfic]

Oh boy yumeshipper drama! Recently, I got into yumeshipping despite long-ingrained instincts that self-inserts are "cringe" and "the kind of thing only annoying and unskilled/inexperienced teenagers do". (I grew up in the days of things like deviantArt shaming and Mary Sue character drama, so even now it's still a hard instinct to overcome.)

But despite that I decided to play around and make a yume character to set up with some blorbos I liked in one of my fandoms, because the world is burning down and this is honestly a better way to cope with that than substance abuse. It's actually been really fun sprinkling bits of myself into a character and adapting it realistically to the specific setting that I'm playing around in (and it's also potentially been making me realize some things about myself with regards to some things like gender).

Even so, I don't *DARE* discuss this outside of the small circle of friends I know I can trust, because I have heard so many horror stories about other yumeshippers who get violently possessive of their blorbos and stir up shit. It sucks because I've actually been having so much fun and I want to share my good time with others-

(Personally I don't care about other selfshippers with my blorbos, because I am of the attitude that every person's interpretation and interaction with a piece of media will be different and anything can be possible if you spin it convincingly/in-character enough, and thus one version is no more "correct" than another, with some rare exceptions, obviously. So my version is different from your version, and that's okay! If I don't like it I also don't have to look at it! And that's also okay!)

-but I really don't want to invite the drama and potential blowups into my escapist space.

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