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lovelettersforthedamned · 5 months

Note

Can I request fluff 11 & smut 11 with Poe?

Riding Till Morning

--genre: fluff & SMUT

--pairing: poe dameron x afab!reader

--word count: 1.0k

--warnings: kissing, (star wars) foul language, thigh riding, mutual masturbation, sassy!poe (this is honestly canon), dirty talk, groping, clothed touching.

POE PLEASE JUST ONE CHANCE

The air inside the cantina was hot, but nobody cared. When you’re in a time of war, spending time with those you love is a privilege, and if that means sitting in a crowded and muggy space. So be it. And how could you complain when you were sitting next to the love of your life?

With Poe’s arm wrapped around your waist, his touch became extremely apparent. Turning your body to fully face him, you reach your hand up to squeeze his cheeks together, giggling and placing a kiss on his now-puckered lips. “Should we call it a night? I know you have to be up early tomorrow,” you move your hand to caress his cheek.

Poe lowers his hand towards the supple flesh of your butt, giving it a firm squeeze, “That’s the best idea I’ve heard all night, let’s go.”

He’s already on his feet, his line of sight heading straight towards the door. You tug on his hand, stopping him in his tracks, “Shouldn’t we say bye first?”

He turns his head back around to respond and reaches for your hand, but you can see this look in his eyes, a look of lust and need, “They’ll see us tomorrow, c’mon.”

You giggle as you take his hand, walking out of the cantina and to your shared room. The distance between the two worked in Poe’s favor. You swore he would have ripped your arm off if he walked any faster. You couldn’t help but smirk the entire walk back, the people you passed glanced at the two of you for a second longer than they should have.

Making your way to your room, Poe is quick to kiss you. You just barely closed the door before you felt him press you into the cold surface. His lips envelop yours, the warmth of his mouth making your head spin. You can feel his hands roaming your body, eventually stopping at the nape of your neck. Poe pulls away from you to connect your foreheads, “Your heart is beating so fast right now.”

“Well besides the fact that you practically dragged me through the base, another smirk rises to your face, “I just really need you to touch me right now.”

Poe’s smirk quickly matched yours as he led you to the couch, pulling you onto his thigh. Your arms wrap around his neck, looking down at him to give him another deep kiss. The kiss only made you more desperate for his touch, you needed more. Breaking the kiss, you voice your need, “Please baby–kriff–I need you so bad.”

Poe looks up at you with his half-lidded eyes, “The only way you’re getting off is on my thigh, baby. Can you do that for me?”

You nod quickly, taking whatever Poe gave you. With his hands still at your hips, you begin to rock your hips back and forth, the friction pulling a soft moan out of you. Even though you were both fully clothed, the movement was still able to give you the touch you’d been craving.

Poe sighs as he tilts his head up towards you, basking in the sight of you on top of him, “Do you know how good you look like this? How good you look riding my thigh, baby? Stars, you look kriffing perfect.”

His praise sent pleasure straight to your core, a wet spot forming on your pants. Looking down, you can see Poe’s cock hardening in his pants. You reach down to grab his cock, a grunt is heard from him when you begin to stroke him.

The pre cum seeping out of his tip starts to show through his pants, just like yours. And maybe you’re basking in the fact that he’s right where you are, but you’ll never admit it, you just bite your lip and try to keep this memory of him locked in your mind.

Focusing on anything but the pleasure he’s giving is hard, your pace suddenly getting slower and sloppier. The wet spot now transferred onto his pants. Seeing this, he taunts you, “You’re gonna cum, baby? Yeah? Gonna cum on my thigh?”

“Kriff–yes baby,” you pant out, your eyes squeezing shut.

Poe releases one of his hands from your hip and brings it up to hold your cheek, his voice breathy “Then cum for me baby, cum for me.”

With the tone of his words, you cum. You can’t help but grab onto one of his shoulders for stability as you feel your core pulse on his thigh, your other still holding onto his cock. Too dazed in the state you’re in, you hear a loud moan come from Poe, the grip on your hip sure to leave a bruise.

It took you a second to come back to your senses, looking back down at Poe. He’s in a similar state as you. Wait, did he cu–oh. His pants were ruined, the wet spot very evident. His eyes are closed as his head leans against the back of the couch. Leaning down, you plant a firm kiss on his forehead, “We made a mess.”

Opening his eyes, Poe looks down, one of his legs stained with you, and another stain from him. He releases a breathy laugh before looking back up at you, “Yeah, we sure did.” He then looks over to the clock, mentally cursing at the time, “So much for trying to rest before morning.”

You fully lean into him, your body all of a sudden hit with a wave of exhaustion, “It’s alright, as long as we actually get up, we’ll be fine.”

Poe wraps his arms around you and sighs, “Yeah, yeah. Just don’t ask me for ‘just five more minutes’, because we both know what’ll happen after that.”

You laugh, “Shhh…Let’s just relax for right now, that's tomorrow's problem.”

“Baby,” he pauses to check the time again, “that’s today's problem.”

--author's note: oh this is so good. i need poe so bad it's not even funny anymore tbh. NONNIE THANK YOU FOR THIS MAGICAL ASK. don't forget to like, comment, and reblog my work if you love it!! ok, ily bye<33333

#poe dameron x reader #poe dameron smut #poe dameron fluff #poe dameron #fluff #smut #star wars #LLFTD 200 FOLLOWER CELEBRATION #poe dameron blurb

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scoonsalicious · 2 months

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Unwanted: Chapter 20, Uninhibited - Pt. 1

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, vomiting, mentions of speculation of poisoning.

Word Count: 562

Previously On...: You confronted Bucky for sleeping with Jade. He was full of apologies and tears, but you'd had enough of both.

A/N: We now officially begin the third arc of the story! While the betrayal is done, there are still going to be a lot of dark themes that will be explored. You are warned.

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when I update, please enable notifications from my Blog page!

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917!

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

Taglist: (Sadly, tag list is closed; Tumblr will not let me add anyone new. If you want to be notified when I update, please Follow me for Notifications!) @jmeelee @cazellen @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @blackhawkfanatic @buckybarnessimpp @hayjat @capswife @itsteambarnes @marygoddessofmischief @sebastians-love @learisa @lethallyprotected @rabbitrabbit12321 @buckybarnesandmarvel @fanfictiongirl77 @calwitch @fantasyfootballchampion @selella @jackiehollanderr @wintercrows @sashaisready @missvelvetsstuff @angelbabyyy99 @keylimebeag @maybefoxysouls @vicmc624 @j23r23 @wintercrows @crist1216 @cjand10 @pattiemac1@les-sel @dottirose @winterslove1917 @harperkenobi @ivet4 @casey1-2007 @mrsevans90 @steeph-aniie @bean-bean2000 @beanbagbitch @peachiestevie @wintrsoldrluvr @shadowzena43

Tumblr will not let me directly tag the following: @marcswife21 @erelierraceala @jupiter-107 @doublejeon @hiqhkey @unaxv @brookeleclerc

The rest of the week was awful. You distracted yourself as best you could, practicing your dance routines on the pole Tony had reluctantly transferred to your new, temporary space. Thank goodness you’d kept yourself in shape over the years; you’d forgotten how much core and upper body strength pole dancing required. Yet the movements came back to you with ease, muscle memory that allowed your mind to wander, which wasn’t always necessarily a good thing.

You were still vomiting, though not as severely. One early morning, after nausea had pulled you from a restless sleep and you were hanging your head, exhausted, over the toilet bowl once more, you had the terrifying thought that Jade had been poisoning you this entire time, deliberately, to take you off the mission with Bucky so she could insert herself. You wondered, horrified, if she and Bucky had been in on it, together. If it had been their plan all along to get you out of the way.

You shook your head, dispersing the ridiculous thought. Bucky was careless with your heart, but you didn’t think he actively hated you. Emotionally, he obviously didn’t give a flying fuck how much pain he caused you, but he wouldn’t physically harm you. Carthage, on the other hand, well, you thought her entirely capable of such a thing. But how would she have the access without ensuring others were getting sick, too?

No, your overtired imagination was getting the better of you, and you were more than eager to paint Jade as the villain in any circumstance that might present itself. The truth of it was, she’d already done enough damage; you didn’t have to invent more.

You tried your best to avoid Bucky, but as Wanda and Nat had warned you, it was easier said than done. Though Tony had allowed you to restrict access to your new floor to ensure Bucky couldn’t follow you to your room, he still managed to always be around every time you ventured out throughout the Tower.

He only tried to engage with you once, two days after your storage closet confrontation, but you’d turned and immediately walked in the opposite direction. Everything was too raw, the pain too new, for you to be near him at the moment. Just the sight of him broke you apart all over again. The sooner you were out of the Tower for your mission, the better.

You’d warned him that if he couldn’t stay away from Carthage, you’d ice him out in such a way that he’d long for the warmth of Siberia. It was only fair for him to experience the consequences of his own actions.

As your birthday approached, you felt even worse. Before everything had gone to hell, Bucky had talked about taking a trip, just the two of you, to celebrate, but like all his other honeyed promises, it turned out to be nothing but bitter lies. You resented him for taking away any excitement you’d felt for your upcoming party, for destroying your chance to feel an emotion even close to resembling happiness, even with something that had nothing to do with him.

So, you stayed confined to your room as much as possible, practicing and researching, hoping that, with enough time, you’d finally manage to bury all of the pain beneath enough layers of ice to numb yourself.

<- Previous Chapter / Next Part ->

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes #mcu bucky barnes #james barnes

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enid-rhees · 10 months

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this was a request by @wh0reishslxtsstuff 🫶🏻🩷! i accidentally posted it instead of saving the draft, but worry not i remember what i wrote 😭 hope u enjoy bff 🩷 apologies for how short it is.

summary: you wake Enid up with oral (consensually)

warnings: smut, eating out. MINORS DNI.

a/n: hope you all enjoy! requests are back OPEN! if you’d like to request, read pinned for rules!

usually, you and Enid wake up at the same time every morning. after years of sleeping in the same bed with each, you’ve adapted to her schedule. but this morning was different.

the sky was barely lit, so you assumed it was still pretty early in the morning. so you turned back around to face Enid and closed your eyes again, hoping to go back to sleep.

but after tossing and turning for almost five minutes, you gave up on trying to sleep. you threw the blanket off if you, but it also uncovered part of Enid.

Enid wasn’t wearing shorts, or underwear for that matter. the sight brought you back to last night, and how Enid practically fucked you into the mattress.

you smirked at the memory. you were about to get up for a glass of water, but her words came back to you as well.

“you know, if you wake me up with your head between my thighs, i definitely wouldn’t complain.”

you thought about it for a moment, debating on wether it was too early to do it or not. but that thought was quickly subsided when she moved in her sleep, and she was now on full display for you. your mouth practically watered at the sight.

you took the blanket off her legs softly and spread them wide open. her folds spread open, showcasing her wet hole for you.

getting on your stomach, your face was now directly in front of her. you gently lapped at her wetness, testing the waters. Enid flinched, but didn’t wake.

you gently took hold of her thighs, pushing your tongue deeper into her. your tongue skillfully moved in and out of her. Enid flinched once more, and then quiet moans filled your ears.

you looked up, and saw that Enid was finally awake. she blinked slowly, not quite processing the situation yet.

“good morning, pretty girl.” you whispered. she turned to you, a weak smile making its way to your her lips, “good morning, baby. what are you doing?”

“waking you up with my head in between your thighs, like you mentioned last night.” you said, and went back into her, she gasped, hands gripping the bedsheets.

you attached your lips to her clit, reveling in her quiet whines and moans. “mhm, keep going.” Enid begged, grinding her hips up into your mouths. you licked a long stripe up, smirking into her at the way she moaned loudly.

“y/n, oh, y/n- i’m close,” she moaned, and the way she moaned your name went straight into your core. you thrusted your tongue into her again, bringing her closer to the edge.

you brought a finger up, now messily rubbing at her clit. her legs shook as her orgasm crashed onto her, a loud scream spilling from her lips.

she caught her breath as you placed light kisses in her inner thighs, sucking small marks into them. only for you to see.

“how was that, baby?” you asked softly, moving to lay beside her. there was still lust in her eyes as she looked over at you. “absolutely amazing. fuck.”

you chuckled, “i couldn’t fall back asleep. and i remembered what you told me last night… about waking you up like that.”

she laughed breathlessly, “i think that was the best thing i’ve ever said.” you laughed along, pressing a kiss to her head. “so, would you like that to be a regular occurrence?”

“mhm,” she nodded. “but i can’t leave you untouched like this, it’s unfair.” she hummed, making her way on top of you and tugging down your shorts.

#enid rhee #enid twd #enid rhee x reader #enid rhee x fem!reader #enid rhee smut #the walking dead #the walking dead x reader #twd #twd x reader #twd smut

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bandofchimeras · 5 months

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Buckle up cuz this is a longpost about Jewish conversion & transsexual identity.

A friend joked, "why do all the bad Catholic girls become good Jewish boys?" when I told them of my conversion.

which sure, it's a bit funny how common it is to find Jewish convert trans men.

but for me the joke formula is a bit off. I consider myself a Good (read: prudish, rule enforcing, obsessively observant) Catholic girl to a bad (read: indolent, irreverent, skeptical, punk ass) Jewish boy.

I had to ask myself, what does it mean to enter a religious tradition and outright declare oneself "bad"? Why do I even want to be part of the Jewish people?

Well it has to do with autonomy & reactivity.

Catholicism was forced upon my natural psyche, much like girlhood. I was assigned Catholic and Girl at birth.

To cope, aside from moments of lapse and rebellion that would explode out now and again, I strove to be "good," to exactingly follow this assignment, perfectly study all its rules and craft the perfect image of what was desired of me to wear as a mask over my realer, neglected and deeply wounded self.

Breaking free of both those constraints in rapid order, there was no going back. I would never again be a Catholic, bad or otherwise, or a girl, feminist or otherwise. Yet in my heart of course, I will always be a Catholic girl with the attendant moods and desires and shapes of understanding that it required me to take.

Now, in conversion and in transition - there is a choice. I could remain nonbinary, fluid, in constant flux, agnostic, ungrounded, dynamic and in conversation with the questions of the world. For a time I thought yes this is who I really am. Not seeing, of course, this is who we all are at our core. Living in that non-identity and infinite identity at once for a time spiritually reconnected my soul back to its own shapelessness and shape shifting power.

But there comes a time when life requires you make some commitments. This is not to say nonbinary or gender fluid people must pick a side. Some folks need to carve out something different entirely. But while my soul remains genderfluid, pagan and animist, I felt the need for communal identity and a structure to build myself on in the world. What aligned most was ftm transexuality, and Judaism, both strains of music I'd been hearing since early childhood, hints and leads all along the way.

See it's that, the formless mischievous spirit within me takes on the shape of a Jewish boy reconnecting with his Slavic roots.

But! In having so much a choice in this (not really, but it was a choice to follow the path that called my name), means it is my Identity. And while Judaism comes with a large set of rules, guidelines, practices and a huge long tradition of scholarship to draw on, and while I did hear jokes about and feel concerned about the similarity of Jewish and Catholic guilt ....none of that has been much of a problem. I'm a very bad and rules avoidant little punk. I tried for a minute to be a "good" man and it fucking failed, fell flat on my face and in the end had to laugh at my attempts. I'm kind of a slut, a fag and a sleazebag. I do what I want, no matter how I try, and that's that. Judaism, I hoped would be a forcefield of community to help me hold onto morality and find a light of belonging in the darkness.

Post October 7th, it has become exceedingly clear that no, it will not be the institutions of Judaism that light this candle, but the weirdos, the queers, the witches and outcasts and converts in conflict. Judaism, as a spiritual /shape/ has a home for us in the corners even though the solidified institutions are entrenched in Zionism. It breaks my heart to pieces but I feel lucky to have seen it before formally converting. It's the storytellers that means the most to my heart, the subaltern keepers of memory. The survivors.

So I revel in being a bad Jew before I am finished becoming one, embracing the role of black sheep before even entering the fold, and will not fight against it.

Similarly, allowing my masculinity to be odd, offbeat and expressive - I did get beat down into a kind of cishet conformity for survival for awhile, and I'm not talking about feminizing my expression, but just being a weird fucking guy who violates male social contracts by existing as myself.

There's a freedom in renouncing desire for recognition, validation and asserting oneself (with humility!) in a tradition while still embracing it. Like hah! You can't get rid of me, I'm the pest assigned by G-d to question your assumptions unto my own exclusion, or relate freely to G-d, look them in the eyes while praying. I have an attitude and I'm not good, and don't care to be. Nothing has illustrated this more beautifully than the graphic novel The Rabbi's Cat. In which the figure of the dog and the cat play out as different orientations towards Hashem and Judaism itself.

There is room for all of us. If you don't think so, okay. We will keep making room for ourselves anyhow.

Meow meow.

#conversion #jewish conversion #ex catholic #religion #personal #long post #transsexuality

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late-to-the-party-81 · 5 months

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Finders Keepers - Chapter Six

AN: Thanks for joining me in this ride back into X Reader territory, and I hope you’ve enjoyed it. However, it’s time for this story to end - at least for the time being. Thanks to my cheerleaders, Elsie, Christy and Dani. Kisses.

Chapter is unbeta'd

Likes are loved, reblogs are golden.

Dividers by @firefly-graphics and moodboard by me.

Bingo Fills - @buckybarnesbingo Square U2 - Kink: Stripping

Join my tag list here

Master list | BBB Master list

Chapter 5

Relationship: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Chapter word count: 2.1k

Chapter CW: Explicit Sexual content, Slight Service Top/Subby vibes from Bucky, Needy Bucky, Hair pulling, Cunnilingus, Teasing, Snark, Unprotected sex (but this is the future and STD’s don’t exist and Reader is in charge of her own reproductive health), minor discussion about prosthetics and trauma.

Chapter 6 - Fucking Bucky Barnes

It was like some kind of dream. That’s all he could think. He didn’t even believe he’d actually said what he said - offered to kiss you to erase the memory of Rumlow doing the same - or that you’d actually agreed, your body creeping closer to his as you said yes, your eyes slowly closing…

Your lips were soft under his and any intention he’d had of just giving you a single, gentle kiss went straight out of the window. He pulled you to him with both arms, and you went easily, slinging a thigh over his and drawing him into the cradle of your hips. When your fingers tangled in his hair, gently tugging on the dark strands he groaned into your mouth. He felt splayed open. All of who he was, was on display for you. He’d let you climb inside him, curl up under his ribs and hold his heart in your small hand if he could.

He cupped your face with his hands, deepening the kiss, and you rolled your hips, your warm, panty-covered core rubbing over the hard cock contained within his sleep shorts. Your needy whimpers spurred him on, and he dragged his lips from yours, learning the shape of your features with his mouth and the tips of his fingers. He sucked at your pulse point, dragging another noise from your throat.

“Is this okay, doll?” he mumbled against your skin. “Please say you want this as much as me?”

You drew in a ragged breath and pulled on his hair to bring his lips back to your own. “God, yes. Get those clothes off, Barnes.”

Your eagerness made Bucky chuckle and he pulled away from you, climbing out of the bed and watched as you sat up, tracking his every move with hooded eyes in the early morning light.

As his hand gripped the back of his shirt Bucky realised something - this was the first time he’d considered baring himself to anyone since his accident. He’d not been celibate in that time by any means, but he’d rarely ever brought someone back to his home, and never fully undressed. He should be anxious but found that he wasn’t. He just knew that you would never judge him for his scars, just as he’d never judge you for yours.

With a playful twirl of his hips, that made you giggle and in turn made him grin, Bucky pulled his tee-shirt over his head, then slowly shimmied out of his sleep shorts with a few more hip wiggles and stood naked in front of you. He felt your gaze roam over his body, and as your tongue peeped out to swipe over your lips, his cock twitched.

“Your turn, doll,” he teased. You took your lower lip between your teeth and peered up at him from under your lashes as you pushed up onto your knees, shifting your weight over to your left leg. You took hold of the hem of your oversized sleep shirt and pulled it off, unashamed to show him your body. All the curves, dimples and scars that told who you were, were exposed. You lay back down and hooked your fingers in the waistband of your underwear and then flashed him a sultry look.

“Help me with these?”

Bucky didn’t need to be asked twice. He practically dove onto the bed, making it bounce and pulling another chuckle from you. He hadn’t felt this carefree in a long time and was revelling in the joy of it. He pressed his lips to the soft skin of your stomach, littering it with kisses, as his hands took over from yours on your underwear. He pulled the flimsy fabric down, his mouth following the same path, and flung them across the room overdramatically. You tried to laugh again, but at that moment his tongue pushed its way between your folds, swiping over your clit and you let out a garbled moan instead.

“Fuuuuuuuuuck.”

Bucky grinned and did it again, needing another taste of you. Your hands flew to his hair again, the rough tugs going straight to his cock. But he could wait. As much as he wanted to sink into the clutch of your body, he wanted to explore you first. His fingers curled into your thighs so he could pull you flush against his mouth and he speared his tongue into your cunt.

“Oh, god!”

He felt you arch your back, pushing yourself against him, and he grinned into you. He was already addicted to you, wanting to give you pleasure and feeding off the power you gave him as he did so. Bucky switched his focus back to your clit, drawing circles around it and then sucking it into his mouth, but he didn’t leave your pussy needy for long. One long, thick finger slid into you easily and you bucked against it, wantonly. Fuck, you felt so good. His cock was dripping onto the sheets in anticipation. He added a second finger and you keened, tugging on his hair some more. He pumped his digits slowly, teasing you, the pads of his fingertips pressing into your front wall until you wailed. He upped his pace, but not by much, concentrating on hitting the spot that was making your legs tremble and your mouth spew a mixture of curses and nonsense. He wanted to bring you up slowly, so that you didn’t notice how close to the precipice you were until you crashed over it.

As he did so Bucky feasted on you. Your taste and your reactions. He worshipped at your altar, becoming your supplicant, because all there was, was you. He added a third finger and you howled, almost driven mad by lust and sensation, but Bucky kept up the rhythm and the pressure, and then suddenly you were breaking. Your cries filled the room and Bucky stroked and licked you gently through it, into the aftershocks, only stopping when you combined the tugging on his hair with a throaty command to “Get your ass up here, Bucko.” With one last kiss to your clit, Bucky happily did as he was told.

You hadn’t been sure what to expect from Bucky, but if you’d had any expectations he’d greatly surpassed them. You pulled him back up from his worship of your cunt, letting out a little of your usual snark to get him to understand, and fell into another kiss. You tasted yourself on him and moaned, your hands travelling down to his ass and pulling him roughly against you. His cock slid between your folds, nudging at your sensitive clit and you shuddered in pleasure.

“I need you, Bucky. Please.” Your fingertips curled into his firm flesh and he hissed as your nails dug in.

“Need you too, doll. Fuck. Need you so much.”

Then, without warning, Bucky took hold of your waist and rolled the pair of you, so you were now straddling him, your hands moving to rest on his pecs.

“Want you to ride me. Want you to take what you need from me.”

You grinned down at him. His hair stuck out at all angles from your ministrations, his grey eyes were dark with lust and a pink flush painted his throat and neck. He looked so debauched and, at this moment in time at least, he was all yours. With a sly smile you rubbed over his small, dark pink nipples with your thumbs and then rocked your hips, sliding your wet pussy up and down the length of his cock. Bucky moaned beneath you, his eyes rolling back in his head and you chuckled.

Leaning down, you ducked your head close to his ear. “Music to my ears, baby,” you purred and then gave his earlobe a tug with your teeth for good measure. Sitting up again, you slid a hand down between you, wrapping your fingers around Bucky’s cock. You jacked it a few times and swiped your thumb over the sensitive head, spreading his precum and enjoying the way he trembled under your touch. Then you lifted your body, lined him up and slowly sank down.

You both groaned, Bucky’s grip on your hips intensifying as you bounced up and down to work him in, and then you were fully seated, Bucky’s cock stretching you out and filling you in the most delicious way. His eyes were closed and you could tell he was trying to control his reaction, struggling not to come straight away. You lifted yourself up and then sunk back down slowly and Bucky whined, his eyes snapping back open, taking in the sight of you riding him. You moved again, one hand still on his chest for leverage, up and down, rolling your hips and as you found your rhythm you felt the coil within you tightening again.

“Fuck!” Bucky whispered and you grinned down at him, taking your hands off his chest to cup your own breasts. He surged up then, desperate, his lips finding one plump nipple and sucking it into his mouth. You moved a hand to cup the back of his head and hold him in place as you continued to ride him. You slid your other hand between you, seeking out your clit with practised fingers and within a few moments you were coming again. As you spasmed around Bucky’s cock, crying out your pleasure. Bucky pulled his lips from your breasts, his hips fucking up into you as he also came with a shout and you both collapsed down onto the bed.

You lay replete against Bucky’s chest, breathing heavily and smiling to yourself at the way his hand stroked up and down your back. Idly, you traced the tip of your finger over some of the scarring around his left shoulder.

“You didn’t take it off to sleep. Do you normally do that?” You tipped your head up to look at him.

“No. Most nights I take it off. It gets a bit heavy after a while. But I wanted to be ready for anything last night. You know. In case you needed something. Then you wouldn’t have to wait for me to put it back on or anything.”

“Such a gentleman,” you teased. “But don’t be uncomfortable on my account. My leg is a part of me, and it was awful having it taken from me, but I will admit, it’s sometimes nice not to have it on. And anyway, I have a feeling you’d manage to do anything I needed just fine without it.”

The arm across your back tightened, giving you a small hug and you felt him press a kiss to the top of your head. “Thanks, doll. It’s nice to talk to someone who gets it.”

“So, does this mean you like me now?” You grinned and Bucky rolled his eyes.

“I’ll have you know I always liked you. I was just an idiot. I didn’t want you to get hurt in this business and I thought that if I made it hard for you, you’d just go away. You’d be safe from this life and I’d be safe from you distracting me.”

You grabbed a pillow and smacked it on his head. “That’s the most dumbass thing I’ve ever heard. And also very condescending. I’m a grown woman, and perfectly capable of making my own decisions.”

“I know. I guess I was just scared. The last time I worked with anyone, trusted anyone, it was Hydra and I ended up losing an arm.”

You sat up at that revelation. “That was them? Shit. No wonder you hate them.”

“Yeah,” he muttered. “Maybe I’ll tell you about it some time.”

You gave him a warm smile. “Only if you want. Yes, it’s a part of you, but it’s also your trauma to share or not to share. Maybe I’ll tell you about mine one day? Now, going back to the fact that you always liked me…”

Bucky huffed. “You’re not going to let me live this down, are you?”

“Not for a long time,” you smirked back. “But does that mean you’ll let me raid your supplies for my Finds, now?”

“You drive a hard bargain, doll. What do I get out of this arrangement?”

“I’m sure I’ll think of something,” you said slyly, trailing your finger down to tease his nipple.

With a playful growl, Bucky flipped you, pinning you to the bed and caging you in with his arms. His hair flopped into his face and you smoothed it back with a smile. You didn’t know what would happen tomorrow, or what would happen with the Hydra gang, but you knew you’d have Bucky by your side.

Now that you'd found him, you were definitely keeping him.

Tag list: @christywrites, @alexakeyloveloki, @wolfsmom1, @doasyoudesireandlive, @sonatabee-blog, @goldylions, @galactusdevourerofworlds, @apenny4thots, @mrs-illyrian-baby, @km-ffluv, @wheezy-stucky

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #buckybarnesbingo2023

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vizthedatum · 3 months

Text

CW: self-immolation is a sacred testament that cannot be silenced (Free Palestine)

During my current spiritual awakening as a scientist, healthcare data scientist, writer, and varied-trauma survivor, not only am I growing into myself, I am growing into what it means to truly be a citizen of the world.

I grew up Hindu, and I only really connected with it spiritually to my core after a series of traumatic events I faced in this lifetime, including events I brought on myself.

Being spiritual has brought me so much peace. However, I am still living in a world, where there is so much turbulence, where there is so much suffering.

In so many religions and spiritual practices, the concept of worldly suffering is heavily discussed. Everyone has their own justifications and their own way of mitigating (or propagating) suffering.

In this post, I will be addressing the genocide of human life in the Gaza Strip, along with the various other genocides that have plagued my lifetime, including the Rohingya genocide. The following topics will be mentioned as well: the constructs of hierarchy that somehow lesson some people's lives and elevate others, self-immolation as a spiritually grounded form of protest when your soul cannot find another way, suicide and attempted suicide, complicit-ness, and generational and worldly abuse/trauma.

When Aaron Bushnell self-immolated on February 25, 2024, I avoided the news even more than before.

I fully understood why he did it, but it also brought back memories of the time when my brother, in his teenage years, went behind his high school to self-immolate. He failed and went to the hospital with burns. This suicide attempt was one of several that he would face for most of his life.

Aaron did it out of protest to Free Palestine. My brother did it out of an intention to commit suicide because not only did he not want to live, he did not feel wanted in this world.

What makes a person not wanted? What compels whole swaths of people to either protest or support mass murder?

These are some of life's big questions, huh?

Spiritually, I consider self-immolation an act from the soul. My belief stems from my worship of the matriarchal depiction of godly being from Hinduism. She is known by so many names: Mahadevi, Devi, Shakti, Ma, Mahamaya, etc.

One of her forms is Sati. Later, "sati" became the name of the self-immolation practice that widows perform on the pyre of their husband's body, during his funeral.

The term, "sati," stands for nobility and truth in Sanskrit. It's not literally about self-immolation - it's about standing up for what you think is right and being very clear about what is suffocating you to the point of your soul being burned alive.

In short, Sati's story is about her protest of her husband, Shiva, not being respected by her family. She marries Shiva - her godly companion through every reincarnation of the Mahadevi - and her father doesn't like it.

Shiva, Brahma, and Vishnu are the male counterparts of the "holy trinity of Hinduism" - they're considered *the supreme Gods.*

Her father prepared a ritual sacrifice event (a yajna) and did not invite his son-in-law. There are so many details to this - including that her father was human (well this is contested since he was a part of Brahma) and had devoted himself to Brahma, that all these figures were among the early humans (and gods) in Hindu mythological lore, and that despite factuality the stories are metaphors and descriptions of the layered nature of humanity.

Sati wanted Shiva to come, but he refused since he wasn't invited. Sati instead went to the yajna and she was humiliated by her entire family. Her husband's name was also tarnished.

She couldn't take it - not only was Shiva in the same class of deitic prolificness as Brahma, Shiva was her husband.

She threw herself in the fire of the yajna and self-immolated. She sacrificed her life's energy to go back into the universe or higher power, because she could not stand for this injustice.

Shiva became so stricken with grief and anger, he destroyed the yajna (later the yajna was restored) and threatened his father-in-law's life.

He took his wife's body and wandered around. 51 pieces of Sati's body fell to the earth and became what is known as the Shakti Pithas.

These 51 sites are in South Asia, and people still pay pilgrimage and worship at these sites.

I've personally only been to one - the one in Kalighat where my maternal family line lives. I'm a strong worshipper of Kali Ma, and I believe she spoke to me there, amongst the crowds, when I was 25.

The number, 51, is contested of course - but that's not the point.

The reason why Hindus make pilgrimage to these sites is because of her great sacrifice. It was a test of divinity.

She recognized what was important to her and that Shiva was indeed a supreme deity - and then she sacrificed her own supremeness to both defend him and herself.

In South Asia, self-immolation is spiritually considered a noble act of protest due to this story (and so many other stories).

Unfortunately, it becomes a problem when people are FORCED to self-immolate (as in the case of the sati practice where it's rooted in misogyny and patriarchy) or when people are COMPELLED to self-immolate due to lack of community and mental health resources (such as in the case of my brother).

I don't think it becomes noble or truthful in those instances, even if there are hints of the truth underlying these issues.

I think back to Sylvia Plath in these cases sometimes - she committed suicide by suffocating herself in her oven. Her poetry and words will probably inspire generations upon generations. But I understand why she did it - I am of the opinion that she was surely abused by her husband and traumatized by the lack of support from her community. In short, I believe her husband (whose second wife died from the same method of suicide) was abusing her in the form of narcissistic, sociopathic, or psychopathic abuse to the point where she felt suffocated. Since she could not bring herself to break free, she suffocated herself.

And in the case of mass genocide where a person who has dedicated his life for the protection of humanity (Aaron was a serviceman of the United States Air Force) - I can see why he had to stand up for what he believed to be noble and true.

It's hard to look away when someone so young gives up his life for a cause. I think that was precisely the point. He knew he had power as a young, white man serving a militaristic force in America.

There are so many people who are doing nothing in the face of all of these mass genocides in the world. I don't think it is fair to leave the concept of human suffering up to the higher power.

It is not the higher power's job to fix this for us. I believe that to my core.

Being silent about human suffering is being complicit in it.

I know that many people are not able - or they don't even know - to have an impact on the lessening of suffering. But we must do what we can. A quote I often quote on many, many occasions is by Angela Davis: she says: “Sometimes we have to do the work even though we don't yet see a glimmer on the horizon that it's actually going to be possible.” Do something, take inspired action - don't be silent. You don't have to self-immolate, but please consider the sacrifice and the severity of the situation.

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whispereons · 2 years

Text

Control

Part 1

Despite your lack of lungs it felt like you were suffocating.

In this Eye of storm you were thrown all around as it ate away at your energy.

'Stop fighting already'

Your nerves shot up at the voice in your mind.

'Give in and join us. Being consumed is your only option'

Slowly the Eye of storm ate away on your body and mind as you gradually lost yourself in the void.

This can't be the end. You refuse to accept this as your end. Biding your time you focused on defending your sanity as almost all the energy you gathered was stolen from you.

'You have no-' not letting it finish, you attached yourself to the mental link that let it communicate with you.

'Let go of me this instant you insol-' doing your best to block out its voice you tugged yourself weakly toward the end of the link.

Your mind was strong but this body wasn't. The abuse you suffered early was taking its toll and this body was failing on you.

Just a little more.

Just a little longer.

Just a little bit closer.

Soon enough this body came to a full stop and no matter how much you effort you put in it wouldn't move.

Pain filled your mind and threatened to overcome you so as a last ditch effort you called out.

"Help... Help me set you free."

Then a familiar sense of emotion entered your woozy mind. It was a small sad emotional energy. But that was all it took for the rest to flock toward you.

With renewed strength you continued pushing and soon enough that inky darkness had a bright teal energy in the middle.

'Stay away from me! Don't come any closer!" That low, calm voice became squeaky and fearful as you crawled closer.

The closer you got the stronger resistance you faced. The helpful anemo energy were stolen and brought back in like a tide leaving your mind drained.

Happiness, sadness, anger, fear and so much more were shoved in your mind before leaving you empty. You could only do your best to ignore it and focus on the task at hand.

"Don't give up"

"It'll never work"

"So close...!"

"It hurts"

"STOP FIGHTING"

"We're here with you"

"I want to give up"

"Never give up!"

Conflicting voices were drowning out the main voice as stared at your main goal. Some whispered like a gentle wind while others howled and whipped so similar to when you were falling...when was that?

You could hardly believe your eyes when the main core was in front of you. With one last push you shoved yourself right into the main core.

All the voices and emotions faded from you as only one thing came to mind.

Despair

That familiar feeling brought your past life's memories to mind.

'You're so dumb. Putting yourself directly into here as if you could defeat me.'

It echoed around the core and the emotion showed a hidden side.

'Out there you could have killed me and took over my position. All those energies would have been under your control...'

Shame

Did it really think you were weak enough to fall prey to those emotions again?

'Yet you would rather face off against me in here. A battle of brain and mental fortitude. Are you stupid or arrogant?'

A beat passed as it waited for you to raise to the bait.

Scoffing it finished 'No matter, this ends now'

That wreckless wrath Eye of storms were known for was at the forefront of your mind as the core heated up.

It rushed to consume you and the moment it touched you the battle was over.

The past few days were busy.

After defeating the old owner, you took over the Eye of storm body. Of course, the first thing you did was release all the trapped anemo energies. It may have shrunken you down to the normal size of an Eye of storm, but you still held a lot of power.

Unlike the anemo body which was unstable and hard to control this body was comfortable and sturdy. You could even compare it to your human body.

Unfortunately, you now know first-hand how inconvenient not having hands are.

Sight, smell, touch, and even hearing felt like a new feature to learn all over again.

Of course the fastest way to get acquainted with your body was to practice! Starting from simple movements you slowly worked your way up to the more complex forms like positioning the green rugged pieces around your core.

Soon enough you started to mix and match the pieces for the fun of it. There was an undeniable feeling of nostalgic as spotty memories of your childhood self played with legos that you were never allowed to have.

Awakening yourself out of those memories you jumped into the most anticipated part of your training.

Elemental Power!

Little winds that propelled you into the air became winds harsh enough to enclose the area around you.

Gaping in awe at the new power you now held, you eagerly set off to test it out. All this time you limited yourself to the area where Mondstadt would be built in fear of hurting someone accidentally but confident in your training you discarded those anxieties.

Yet just as you were about to leave, you frowned. There was another reason right? Lack of practice wouldn't be the only reason you would confine yourself to your safe area.

Were you forgetting something?

Deciding to just keep extra awareness of your surroundings, you sped off to explore and test out your limits.

It was hard to keep track of time. The lack of clock became a problem after the 3rd? Or 5th sundown after you realized that you lost track of time.

At this point you explored quite of bit of… what was place called again? This is Man-no Mondstadt but this certain part with crystalflies and fertile soil seemed familiar, especially that ledge that spread closer to the north.

But it felt like multiple important things were missing!

Sighing you floated aimlessly as you tried to gather your jumbled thoughts.

You lived as Y/n, a human, that was reincarnated as a anemo energy and eventually an Eye of storm(eos) in the extremely popular game Genshin that you had an obsession with... for some reason.

Just thinking back to the word "Genshin" spurred happiness in you yet something was still off. You were forgetting something big and important.

A rustle in a bush sent you on alert as you stopped and waited for whatever it was to pop out.

Out came 2 crimson foxes that quickly ran away from you.

Over the past week(?) you honestly didn't need to fight much. One of the perks of being a eos was that no vision holders would try to farm you. Who would hunt down a eos to have less than 1% chance of getting a single artifact than all the other far more convent ways.

But at the end of the day you were still a 'dangerous' monster so whenever you encountered a human they still tried to kill you.

It made for good practice at least. You usually just rough them up for a bit then ditch once they couldn't run.

Just as you were about to continue your nonexistent path you heard a new sound.

Plop, plop, BOOM

Easy enough to recognize it as slimes but the lighter yet somewhat familiar sound that drew your attention.

"C'mon I just wanted- OH! OH NO-"

A high pitched twinkling and voice suddenly came a lot clearer as something small and fuzzy barreled into you.

Time seemed to freeze as you took in the sight of white cloaked anemo whisp with blue wings that made a twinkling sound with each beat of it's wings.

Warmth, and something foreign, strong, and wonderful filled your soul to the brim as you could only stare in amazement at it.

The moment was broken as a handful of slime came out of the same direction the whisp did. (So so familiar, it's at the tip of your tongu-)

Instantly the whisp took cover behind you and pleaded, "Please, please help me! I don't actually own anything to repay you but I've got a pretty good set of pipes!"

The slime gang drew closer as you froze at his voice (Venti, but he's not Venti yet, he's still a whisp.)

With a nervous laugh he huddled himself closer to your core and spotty memories become clear as the situation finally dawned on you.

"Deal."

With a lazy wave you sent the whole group of slimes into the air and turned your attention to Whispti.

Whispti's eyes alone conveyed his shock as he watched the slime fly farther and farther away until out of sight.

Comically he looked at you, then the slimes out of sight then back at you. The silence left you uneasy, maybe even he found you too intimidating...

"That was AMAZING!"

Huh?

"You're an eos holding that much power yet able to stay perfectly calm!"

Seemenly vibrating in excitement he continued to gush about how cool that was and how talented you are.

Embarrassment filled you as you could only dryly reply "Thanks."

Taking your social awkwardness in stride he happily giggled as he floated to rest on a stone. Following his lead you floated down to rest gently on the grass and tried to keep your bashfulness at bay as you watched your favorite character in his cutest form.

"As promised I will sing you a song for saving me." After clearing his throat he stopped to say, "And if it isn't as good as you want then I'll tell you some info to make up for it."

It made sense that he wasn't as sure of his talent before he became Barbatos but hearing him talking in such a self-conscious way wasn't something you were just going to let slide.

Carefully you moved one lego piece and patted his head. Gathering up as much social skills you had and replied in a soothing(?) way, "I like you already, you don't owe me, I genuinely want to hear your song. Plus I have a feeling your voice is as w-wonderful as your personality."

Lack of facial features don't stop you from noticing the blissful and smug look on his face as he replies, "What was that last part, I don't think I heard it~"

Your core heated up a bit as the rugged lego pieces spun around displaying your flustered state.

HIs giggles turned into chuckles and you couldn't resist the puff of air that may or may not have been laughter.

Retracking your lego piece from Whispti's head he pouts for a second before happily talking, "I'm not strong enough to earn a name yet but after that impressive display of power I'm sure you have one. So please tell me so that I can dedicate this song to you."

Most monsters and elementals don't have a name but most didn't have a past life to recall.

"My name is Y/n, I don't really understand the correlation between power and a name but can I call you Whispti?"

Whispti brighten up considerable at the name you chose.

"Of course! Whispti is perfect! When someone officially gives you a name they give power with it, saying that you'll 'call' me Whispti is the usually cheat route us elementals take. You can be granted many names and each comes with it's own set of power. Ah but if you change form that past name will no longer 'officially' apply."

With such a clear explanation you nodded seriously as you set that info aside with full intentions to utilize it later.

Once Whispti felt your full attention on him again he winked as he announced.

"Thank you Y/n for saving me from a group of viscous slimes, that would most certainly destroy frail, cute me. And as such I dedicate this song to you!"

Hearing your name from him sent a buzz of excitement as Whispti began with a pleasant tune.

That little tune goes in sync with the rustling wind and before you know it he's singing. You could only entertain this scenario in fiction so the situation happening left you dizzy from happiness.

Instead of it being a solo with lyrics, he utilizes his anemo energy to mimic piano's of different note range to create a beautiful melody.

Its only in the middle do you realize where this song is from.

Hymn of the Pearl

It's always Venti who narrates the story but you had no idea that the song was his own creation nor that he created it before he was Barbatos.

The song was short and sweet and over before you knew it. Dramatically Whispti bowed awaiting your feedback.

"I enjoyed hearing that very much, thank you. If I could clap I would."

Wincing at your cold voice you added the last comment in hopes to lighten it.

Bubbly laughter spilled from Whispti as he flew around your core in excitement. You on the other hand were having trouble breathing with your favorite person in the universe paying so much attention to you.

Suddenly he stopped so very close to your core and whispered, "Thank you for your praise my muse. Surely you could spare me a few moments of your time to accompany me on a date, hmm?"

Heat flared up inside you like a lighter in a pool of gasoline.

Yup, this was how you were going to die.

The only sound that you could muster was an unholy combination of your excitement and embarrassment.

Venti, the love of your previous and current life has just asked you out within your first meeting.

Is this fate's way of making it up to you for killing you so unexpectedly?

Snickers of 'cute, so so cute' sounded all around you as you could only mumble out a "Yes, please…"

Going on a date with Whispti was even more amazing than you could ever dream.

In fact you spent the next week just traveling around Mondstadt with him. This was undoubtedly the happiest days in both your life's.

Whispti, Barbatos, and Venti were all different and you loved every version of him.

Whispti soft giggles and excitable demeanor charmed you instantly and it was almost too easy to give in. Despite your cold and awkward moments he took them in stride, never failing to make you feel comfortable. You were glad you arrived in time to see this side of him before he becomes Barbatos.

Barbatos was his more solemn and serious side that earned your worship admiration. You scoured the internet and game for as much info about him and you were not disappointed.

So what if he isn't the stereotypical ruler? Karmic debt and tataragami plagued Liyue and Inazuma yet Mondstadt was free of any gods remains. Maybe he planned ahead of time or actively gets rid of it (by himself since the other winds don't seem to deal with that.) either way it shows how he took care of Mondstadt and steps in when he's truly needed.

Venti was his first form you saw him in and the first person to make you feel love. It was strange to deal with such a strong and strange emotion but every lighthearted teasing remark and coy smile made you fall deeper and deeper.

His true self was a combination of all his identities, it was only his form that brought out certain traits more then others. You loved him.

All those poems, songs, and stories about love made sense as you quietly admired and listened to Whispti talk about his travels in the other regions.

"I was coming back with the rest of the whisps but it was soooo boring so I decided to wander off." Feeling your disbelieving stare he hastily defended himself.

"Hey, don't give me that look! I swear it was just for minute, how was I supposed to know those slimes would chase me around for that long?!"

"I don't blame them too much, you look like a toy."

"Oh, really? What kind?"

"A chew toy."

Letting out the fakest gasp ever he looked straight at you and asked seriously, "Am I a cute one at least?"

Doing your best to keep cool you replied, "The cutest one."

Twinkling laughter spilled out as Whispti zoomed around you. Finally he landed on top of your core and got comfortable as he commented, "Someone's gotten bold~ Ah, don't take that the wrong way through! I enjoy it far more than you know."

A comfortable silence ensued and after a brief debate you sadly spoke your throughts.

"You'll have to go back to your group soon right? Your job of being an informant for Decarabian isn't something you can just quit after all. Especially since you have such a high position that requires you to report directly to him. And I can't go with you…"

It was stupid to feel sad.

Entering Old Mondstadt was something important for the plot. How else could he meet the nameless bard and set off the chain reaction that helps so many people.

But that didn't stop the memories of being alone creep up on you as you thought about Venti being away for archons knows how long.

The atmosphere felt tense as you berated yourself for letting your sadness be so obvious. You waited for the inevitable scoff and 'stop being so needy' remark that always came whenever you cried from loneliness.

"I'm not going."

Would you believe me if I said that I believed I finished and posted it for a whole week before realizing? Admittedly this might have a lot of mistakes since its 2 am with a flight in 5 hours and having to rewrite half of this after a command cut went wrong.

Credit/Inspiration go to @anemoarchonhoe this is getting a lot bigger than I thought. But it was too much fun writing Whispti.

Taglist: @inlovewithwaffles , @simpaghettits, @elite2307, @yuriisclumsy (I'm sorry but this link may not work Idk)

#genshin impact venti #whisp's amateur work #yandere genshin impact #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin x reader #yandere x reader #yandere venti #yandere venti x reader #yandere genshin imagines #eye of storm au #isekai #im so tired #so many mistakes

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raccoon-eyed-rebel · 1 year

Text

Part 11 - Incalzando

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Part 10 -- Part 12

Pairing: Sherlock x ofc

Summary: Another Saturday rehearsal at 179th Crescent Street. Of course it's not just the violin they'll be practising...

Warnings: 18+, MINORS DNI, another good ol' makeout sesh, nudity, and a handjob. (Sherlock, getting some.. Whoo!)

Word count: 3.2k

A/N: "Incalzando" is a musical term that means "pressing/ chasing/ more intense".

@geralts-yenn My child has returned ❤️

@deandoesthingstome @peaches1958 @keanureevesisbae

“That went well,” Elena said, voice thick with relief.

“It really did,” Sherlock chuckled. Apart from the obvious implication that they hadn’t been fumbling like idiots the way they had been last week, it had genuinely been a very good rehearsal.

“Do you think I’m ready?” Elena asked softly.

“Are you nervous?” Sherlock raised her eyebrows at her. He hadn’t expected that. “You’ve performed before, I've seen you do it.”

“Not with an orchestra,” she admitted, “and certainly not next to someone as good as you.”

“You know these pieces every bit as well as I do,” he reassured her, “and you play beautifully.” For a moment, she looked as though she believed him.

Until she opened her mouth again: “Again?” He shook his head as he laughed.

“We’re not doing this again, it’s time to stop.” Her hands felt cold in his own when he wrapped his fingers around them. “Are you cold?”

“A little,” she replied, perhaps a little more coyly than she had initially planned, “so if you know a way to get me warm and relaxed, I wouldn’t complain.”

“Does that movie from last week have a sequel?” He chuckled again.

“Sherlock Holmes,” she slapped him against his shoulder playfully, “if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were flirting with me!”

And that’s how they ended up in the same position they’d found themselves in the week prior. Face to face, in Sherlock’s bed, completely ignoring a movie Elena had picked - rather quickly, she had to admit, it was a particularly terrible one, which Sherlock had been quick to point out. Now, his long fingers trailed lazily along her spine while they lay there and looked into each other’s eyes.

“Do we stare at each other a lot?” Sherlock asked suddenly. It made Elena chuckle; the question was so entirely Sherlock that it made her heart jump with joy. Inquisitive and - seemingly - very random. She had found out early on in their friendship that asking him any question along the lines of ‘whatever made you think of that?’ was a time consuming employ.

“Yes,” she admitted, “we do.” Not that she objected to the practice - in fact she had made it her mission to commit every detail of his handsome face to memory so that she could dream of it more accurately.

“Is that weird?” It was a logical followup question, yet it made her laugh even louder.

“Yes, Sherlock, but so are we,” she said with what no doubt was a very silly grin on her face, “what does it matter? Is there something you’d rather be doing?” Whether that last bit was overstepping, or too flirtatious, she only pondered for a moment, mostly because she simply wasn’t awarded more time to consider it. Sherlock’s soft chuckle, followed by his voice, rich with a provocative tone dragged her away from the thought.

“I think there is…” The touch of his lips to hers didn’t allow her to return to that silly thought. In fact, she found herself abandoned completely by any and all thoughts that didn’t have her immediate feelings regarding this new activity as their core subject. Both of them had longed for this for days. Over a week had gone by since they were last in each other’s arms like this, only able to steal a few quick kisses between classes - and of course there was the slightly more indulgent one they’d shared after Sherlock had walked her home after orchestra rehearsal last Wednesday. Now, they finally held each other close again, slowly invading each other’s senses so completely that it drove both of them wild with desire. Elena was somewhat shocked when Sherlock was the first to advance, sliding his tongue along her bottom lip, requesting entrance - which she gladly granted him. The next surprise came when he pushed her onto her back, moving her so that her body was beneath his. It was certainly advantageous; this position made it far easier for her to remove his sweater and button-down shirt.

“Aren’t you impatient,” Sherlock murmured against her lips. She could tell he was grinning.

“You’re the one manhandling me with your tongue shoved down my throat, Sherlock,” she retorted before sneaking in a quick nip at his bottom lip. He pulled away, and for a moment Elena was afraid she had crossed a line with that statement. Her insecurities vanished, however, when she looked at the expression on his face.

“Correct me if I’m wrong - and I am hardly ever wrong,” there was a hint of an arrogant grin on his face, “but that is not exactly a complaint, now is it?”

For someone who had been so uncharacteristically vocal and certain about needing more time, he sure was a quick study. She should have known, of course, Sherlock Holmes had always been able to pick up most skills fairly quickly. That being said, he still had some catching up to do, and she was fully intent on exploiting the advantage of being more experienced for as long as she could. A soft, sudden, and most deliberate nudge of her thigh - which currently lay captured between his - did the trick just fine; Sherlock groaned at the friction it caused. A less welcome side effect of the maneuver was that Elena’s attention was now drawn to the hardness that pressed against her thigh. In fact, she was so taken with the sensation that her thoughts stayed with it until she felt the soft touch of his lips beneath her jaw as they slowly worked their way down to her sternum, and even further into the cleavage of the v-neck sweater she was wearing. Warm hands found their way beneath the hem of it, and caressed the naked skin of her sides and stomach as Sherlock’s lips returned to hers. Soon, the sweater was bunched up around her chest in such a way that there really wasn’t any point in wearing it, so she took it off. He took a moment to look at her while silently taking inventory of his feelings. The conclusion was simple; he would need more time and experience to conquer the nerves that plagued him when he saw her like this. Gaining the necessary familiarity, he found, was something he quite looked forward to. He was staring at her again, he realized suddenly, and he was smiling in a silly way.

“Why are you smiling?” Elena asked, unable to stop smiling herself as she watched Sherlock’s face and the boyish grin on it. It was an expression she recognized: Her first boyfriend had looked at her the exact same way. Only they had both been fifteen at the time. The memory made her chuckle softly. Sherlock’s inexperience was truly endearing, and truth be told, Elena couldn’t be more flattered and excited that she would get to experience his first times with him. She lifted a hand up to his cheek, the soft caresses of her thumb made him hum softly.

“Because you’re stunning, Elena,” he unconsciously licked his lips as he let his eyes glide over her exposed skin. Her hand found the back of his head and she pulled him into another kiss. She did it in part to obscure from him the blush that formed on her cheeks when he complimented her. His hands were quicker now than they had been last time, exploring all of her upper body extensively, but certainly moving steadily towards her chest with indulgent determination. She writhed and moaned beneath him as his initial gentle strokes and caresses grew more heated until he squeezed the soft flesh of her breasts and his long fingers occasionally drew soft circles around her hardened nipples. His touch, she noticed, was far less restrained than it had been before.

“Do you mind if I…” He didn’t finish the question - not that he had to. The hand that lingered on her back at the clasp of her bra revealed exactly what he was trying to ask. Elena nodded so as to give him permission. She didn’t mind at all - in fact; she’d absolutely love to see him try. The thought of him struggling to undo her bra had her fighting to hold back a chuckle. Of course, there was always the possibility that those nimble fingers would have it off faster than she could count to three…

“Heaven’s sake. A Victorian corset would allow itself to be untied more easily,” he murmured as his hand - and seconds later both hands - fought with the clasp before ultimately giving up with an angry growl. There was no way she could choke back her laughter any longer. The pained expression on Sherlock’s face was entirely unhelpful to the endeavor of keeping her face in check, as well.

“You knew,” he pouted. For a moment, he looked young - or rather he looked his own age. And in that same moment, Elena felt bad - guilty, even, as if she were stealing his innocence.

“I’m sorry,” she said sincerely, meaning it in more ways than just the obvious one.

“That’s not good enough.” When he spoke the words, she unconsciously held her breath, worried he was genuinely upset with her. Sherlock’s next words confirmed he wasn’t: “You’ll have to let me practice more, to make this up to me.” Luckily, Elena could hide her sigh in the moan she let out when his lips touched on the junction between her neck and shoulder.

“Let me help, for now,” she managed to whisper when he moved away again. As punishment for her sins, she had some trouble with the clasp herself, causing her to mutter something along the lines of ‘demon invention’ before it finally snapped open. She did not waste time discarding the garment. Despite the fact that the underwear Elena had been wearing last week had been a fair amount more see-through, meaning he had already gotten an extensive preview of what was to be seen, Sherlock clearly struggled to keep his mouth from falling open. This time, when he lifted his hands to touch her, his fingers trembled, and they did not stop when he touched the now exposed skin of her breasts. She shuddered when his fingers gently grazed the pebbled skin of her nipple, arching her back to lean into his touch, finding herself all of a sudden overtaken by desire. Fingers entwined with his curls and pulled him close, her lips finding and kissing his feverishly. She gasped against his mouth as he wrapped his arms around her and closed the space between their bodies. The shift in positions caused his thigh to rub between her legs, making her painfully aware of the aching need that was building in her core. Carefully, she began grinding her hips against him in search of the friction she so craved. The movements had a similar effect on Sherlock, who had until now done a fairly good job of ignoring the way his cock strained against his trousers - a feeling he could no longer deny as Elena’s thigh rubbed against him repeatedly. A small, almost experimental pinch in her nipple caused Elena to throw her head back, which Sherlock took as an invitation to move his lips to her exposed throat, kissing his way along it until he reached her collarbone. The hand that was still in his hair gently nudged him further down. It was an easy enough hint to take. His mouth slowly inched closer to the center of her breast, making her moan and squirm every time his lips touched the soft skin of her chest. Finally, his lips wrapped around her nipple, and she gasped at the contact while her hips continued their relentless movement in search of release as the heat between her thighs burned persistently.

“Please stop,” Sherlock whispered after a while, “it’s really rather uncomfortable.”

“I’m so sorry, Sherlock!” Elena gasped, unable to prevent a slight chuckle from shining through in her voice. She hadn’t intended to make him feel uncomfortable in any way! A devious idea, however, was born in her mind and as though her hands had their own will, they trailed his chest and abs to finally linger at the waistband of his trousers. Sherlock swallowed hard, but it wasn't enough to make the lump that suddenly appeared in his throat disappear.

“Elena…” He grasped her wrists, but found himself quite unsure of what to say. Part of him wanted to ask her to stop, another part wanted to ask her to take this further. It was the latter that ultimately won out. Still unable to speak, he released her wrist and allowed her to open the button and zipper of his trousers. A soft, loving smile laid on Elena’s lips as she slowly placed a hand on his chest and pushed him back onto the mattress. In that moment, it was so obvious to him that she knew what she was doing, and that she was entirely aware of what she was doing to him, that it made him shy and insecure - even more so than he had been until now. She could tell, because he looked up at her like a deer in headlights; eyes wide, filled with terror and doubt.

“You know you can change your mind, right?” She whispered the words softly, as though she didn’t really want him to hear them, because she knew that if he did change his mind, she would have no choice but to stop. And, God, that was the last thing she wanted.

“I know,” Sherlock replied so softly it was barely audible at all, “please don’t stop.” Something about the expression on his face while he said it was reminiscent of shame…

Elena ran her hand over his cock through his underwear for a moment, choking back a chuckle when, for the first time, she got a good sense of what she was dealing with. No matter how hard she tried, she found herself utterly unable to control her mind. Unconsciously, she bit down on her lower lip, while fighting to keep a giddy smile away from the corners of her mouth. Thinking about all the things she wanted to do to him, imagining what it would feel like to sink down onto his cock, wondering whether or not she would even be able to take him all the way down - all of it sent shivers down her spine and had her positively giddy with excitement. As per usual, this did not escape Sherlock’s keen eye, which had returned to him somewhat now that he was no longer fighting against his human nature like a fool every time he saw her.

“What is it?” Was she dreaming or did Sherlock sound… amused? Perhaps it was even a hint of smugness she was seeing in the expression on his face. She looked at him incredulously when it struck her that he knew exactly what she was thinking. Elena knew all too well that there were a mere two categories of men on this planet: men who knew how large their dicks were because they had measured them, and liars. And a guy like Sherlock would surely be aware of the statistics, too… Her eyes narrowed as she dreaded her loss of control over the situation after coming to two conclusions. One: Sherlock knew he had a big dick. Two: He could tell that she found that exciting.

“I think I liked you better when you were so nervous around me that you could barely speak a word, Holmes,” she laughed as she gently dragged a single finger along his length, and watched his reaction; the twitching of his muscles, the sigh he let out, his furrowed brow and clenched jaw… Elena touched him more firmly next, relishing the moans and gasps that spilled from his lips, as well as the way he began rolling his hips, leaning into her touch.

“Alright, where’s that attitude now?” She was aware that it was a bit mean, and a small rush of guilt hit her when Sherlock looked up at her like a wounded puppy. If she hadn’t been in love with him already, she was pretty sure that look would have done the trick.

“Want me to go on?” Her breath was hot on his ear, which, together with all other sensations, occupied Sherlock’s brain so thoroughly that he managed nothing more than a nod and a pleading whine in response to her question. Everything in his body begged her to go on, save the part of him that was already having a partial anxiety attack over returning her affections, later. He raised his hips to help her when she moved to rid him of his clothing. Sherlock closed his eyes and tried his very best to not think about what might be going on inside her head as she looked at him for what seemed like an eternity. He felt her lips on his mouth only moments before her slender fingers wrapped around his cock. Somehow, he managed to choke back the grunt that threatened to escape him, but when she started moving her hand, he was lost, moaning into her mouth each time her hand came close to the tip. Before too long, and without thinking, he reached for her hand. She was pleasantly surprised by his actions, as she hadn’t immediately expected him to feel confident enough to lend her a hand, so to speak. Unfortunately, his courage was short lived: He quickly pulled his hand back after only a few moments and turned his head. Elena caught a glimpse of his eyes; he looked embarrassed.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, that same discomfort evident in his voice. He groaned when Elena let go of his cock and wrapped her arm around his waist to pull him close, instead.

“Whatever for, Sherlock?” she asked earnestly.

“I shouldn’t have…” “Why not?”

“Elena…”

“Answer me,” she said kindly, “come on.” He could tell from the tone in her voice, despite it being sweet as ever, that she was not inclined to let him off the hook.

“I don’t know, it felt a bit…” he struggled to find the right word, “impertinent.”

“It wasn’t,” she replied, “it was quite helpful, actually.” He replied to your statement with a quizzical look.

“I can’t read your mind, darling,” she explained, “you’ll either have to tell me or show me what feels good and what doesn’t. I’ll do the same for you.” Elena had barely finished her sentence when a shameless scream came from downstairs.

“Something like that?” Sherlock said jokingly. Elena rolled her eyes at him derisively, but ultimately couldn’t contain her laughter.

“Perhaps not quite so loud,” she blurted out, “who was that?”

“Solveig, Geralt’s girlfriend,” he answered, avoiding Elena’s eyes because he was sure he would never finish his sentence if he did, “she’s Swedish, they haven’t seen each other in nearly half a year.”

“My God,” she replied, still laughing, “is she just that loud or is he that good?”

“Alright, am I correct in assuming that by the time you start discussing the… proficiency of your housemates, you can safely say the mood is sufficiently ruined?”

“Absolutely,” Elena said before losing her composure entirely.

-> Part 12

#sherlock holmes x ofc #sherlock x ofc #henry cavill sherlock holmes #sherlock holmes #hc sherlock #sherlock holmes fanfic #sherlock holmes smut #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill characters #henrycavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #enola holmes #179 crescent street #179cs #179cs11

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pudding-parade · 1 year

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Music Meme

I was tagged by @celebkiriedhel, sooooo.....

🎶✨ when u get this u have to put 5 songs u actually listen to, and publish. then, send this ask/tag 10 of your favorite followers (non-negotiable, positivity is cool)✨🎶

I've been in a bit of an…eclectic…phase lately, so here's some stuff that's gotten a lot of "airplay" in my house lately. I'm cutting it because I babbled, but before I do that I'll tag: @anamoon63, @enable--llamas, @hazely-sims, @batsheba, @lilleputtu, @echoweaver, @nectar-cellar, @erasabledinosaur, and whoever else might want to do this. Of course, feel free to ignore for any reason. No pressure at all from me!

OK, here we go...

The Gladiator score. The whole thing. I so wish I had played on this one, because it's awesome. Plus, I love Lisa Gerrard. But, on the other hand, I can totally understand why Gustav Holst's estate sued Hans Zimmer's ass because that battle theme sounds an awful lot like Mars, Bringer of War from the Planets Suite. Maybe it was intentional, what with the movie being set in Roman times and Mars being the Roman god of war, but if so you'd think they could have gotten some permission. Apparently not!

Prem Kavita/Wings of the Dawn - Monsoon This is Indipop from the early 80s. No, that isn't indie pop. It's a fusion of Indian music with Western pop. Monsoon sort of pioneered it, and it never really caught on, but as I understand it, it's rising in popularity again. And I love it. Y'all can have your J-pop and K-pop. Gimme all the Indipop. I linked to the Hindi version of the song because I like it better, but there's an English version, too.

Also, I love Sheila Chandra, Monsoon's singer, as a solo artist. It's just a tragedy that she has burning mouth syndrome and is now basically mute. :( Also also, I would love to learn to play the sitar.

Cafe de Anatolia Keeping with a world music theme… This is a 24/7 YouTube stream from a small record label based in Turkey that specializes in a fusion of ethnic music (mostly Middle Eastern and south Asian) with house music, two things that I love. The music is at once meditative and something that you can dance to. I do belly dancing for exercise (it's amazing for your core), and this stream or something else on the same channel is great music for practicing.

Ojos Asi - Shakira Speaking of belly dancing…Ah, Shakira. This is a long remix of my favorite song of hers. Great for belly dancing.

And finally, for something completely different...

One - Apocalyptica Who needs electric guitars to play Metallica songs when you have four Finns from the Sibelius Academy with cellos? I challenge you to tell the difference from about 3:30 to the end. (Also, I have very fond memories of an impromptu jam during a looooooooooooooooong recording session for the first Transformers movie, when we were waiting eternally for Michael Bay reasons, and one of the cellists just started playing the opening pizzicato arpeggios for Apocalyptica's version of "Nothing Else Matters," and the rest of us just started playing the rest. Then the brass players joined in. Good times.)

#non sims #memes memes glorious memes

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shadowshrike · 1 year

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Why I enjoy the yips arc

Disclaimer: This essay is exactly what it says on the tin. If you hate the yips arc or get upset when people don't love Sawamura from the beginning, you will likely want to skip over this post.

For me, the infamous 'yips arc' sold Sawamura. To be honest, I don't tend to like MCs in anime. Especially shonen anime. They don't resonate with my personal experiences regarding competition, failure, and growth.

When I started Daiya, I didn't appreciate the loud-mouthed "hard worker" zero-to-hero sunshine teenage MC that was dead set on causing me as much second-hand embarrassment as possible. I only continued my journey with the story for two reasons: the rest of the team was more grounded, and the plot tended to not reward Sawamura's early egotistical or out-of-touch behaviors with instant success.

It was only when I hit the yips arc that I wanted to root for Sawamura to the end from the bottom of my heart. He was no longer just comic relief or a guy who would suddenly obtain convenient new skills to make sure he stayed relevant in typical MC fashion. While he had the yips, Sawamura proved himself to be a true competitor capable of meaningful fear. One who doesn't steamroll everything when it really counts because he's a prodigy protagonist with a can-do attitude that everybody loves. Yes, Sawamura remained a hardworking prodigy of sorts throughout Daiya, but he more explicitly needed the help of his team and deep self-reflection to reach his potential and move forward during the yips.

Now, there are a lot of people in the fandom who hate the yips arc. I completely understand not wanting to see your favorite character suffer. Especially when 'tough love' communication styles don't feel like love to you. It's also unpleasant to watch many beloved characters struggle to cope after a loss, all while a new villain (at the time) is introduced in Ochiai. But for me, who was not a Sawamura enjoyer until after this arc, I appreciated it. It became a core thread in the tapestry of Seido's team coming together during the aftermath of a foundation-shattering defeat.

A bit about the yips

For those unfamiliar with the real-life condition, the yips are a notoriously difficult thing to treat. There is no cure, just things to try or avoid. Even the help of the best psychological experts at top levels of play can fail to salvage a professional's game after years of treatment.

Many high school athletes have had their careers ended before they began by the yips, forcing them out of their sport entirely. Others recover with minimal help or after a short slump. The scariest part is that you don't know which camp you're going to be in, recovery or permanent breakdown, and you can switch between them at any point.

Although the prognosis for someone who develops the yips is uncertain at best, I've gone through and seen friends go through stages similar to what's shown in Sawamura's journey. I'd argue Daiya touches on these as realistically as it tackles the other disappointing realities of playing a sport. That is to say - it mimics the real deal with a touch of dramatic flair.

Now, I'm no expert on the yips or sports psychology, but I've simplified the 'stages' of the condition I have experienced or witnessed to exemplify why this arc resonated so well with me.

Stage 1 - What's happening?

Failure following a high-stress moment makes the yips seem like normal performance anxiety. It may take a while to realize what's happened if it only appears in specific situations. You try to shake off the bad memory with your normal coping strategies.

Performance anxiety is a constant companion in competition. Nerves after a bad performance, in particular, are expected. Sometimes you luck out and recover immediately. Other times you have to go back to basics or shake things up to reset, especially if your nerves only hit during performance situations and not practice.

You may attempt to ignore it in hopes it will go away like normal. When your usual attempts to get back in the groove all fail is when panic sets in.

We see this most clearly when Sawamura starts falling apart for the first time while throwing inside. It's a story shown through Miyuki more than Sawamura, strangely, since Miyuki's many responsibilities include helping his pitchers regulate their emotions.

As a catcher, Miyuki has a wide bag of tricks to get pitchers going after a slump. Although his caustic tactics are infamous, that isn't the only way he treats them during a game, nor does he treat every pitcher the same, especially after this arc. With Sawamura, Miyuki's go-to is riling him up. Sawamura loves to rise to a challenge. He pitches his best when someone's pushing him or he has something to prove.

But when Sawamura fails repeatedly to respond in his normal way to his calls inside, Miyuki realizes this may not be some normal fluke of bad control. We see Miyuki's darkened expression before he decides what brave face he's going to put on to get Sawamura back on track. He tries other tactics - joking to take the tension out of the situation and redirect anger to him, and eventually trying to directly reassure Sawamura - both of which don't fix the situation and lead us into the next stage.

Stage 2 - I've got the yips, but don't pity me

You realize that the muscle memory is "gone". Something you used to be able to do without thinking about it now forces your brain to focus on every step. You struggle with failure, fear of not getting it back, and the sympathy of others.

When you're a highly competitive person in a competitive environment, being told that your sub-par performance is okay is an awful feeling. It feels like a person is sugarcoating the obvious truth to spare your feelings. What should be a gentle attempt to cheer you up from friends or teammates can become confirmation that they never believed in you in the first place, especially when you usually have a relationship based around friendly trash-talk.

In the worst cases, you may feel like they expected you to fail when you thought you could succeed. They pity you as the 'poor, broken player'. And the last thing you want to do when someone treats you inappropriately softly is validate that you need to be coddled.

This piggybacks off of the previous stage and can serve as a mental block throughout the entire treatment process. What stood out to me in the story was how we mostly saw yips through the other characters. Sawamura didn't really ask for help. In fact, he was unusually agreeable to everyone because he desperately wanted to prove that he could live up to their expectations without those expectations being lowered.

You may recall this is the same player who said, "their kindness hurts". Sawamura thrives in the high-drive teenage sports environment where friends talk shit to each other because they believe in one another. When that stops, it hurts.

Sawamura doesn't want sympathy. He doesn't want understanding or pity because he knows the way he played was indefensible. All he wants is to perform again.

Stage 3 - Step away

Take a break from the affected activity to reset the brain.

This is to avoid cementing unwanted mental patterns. As they say, practice makes permanent. The break may be self-imposed or made mandatory by an authority figure. If you're part of an active team, it can include a demotion or temporary removal. That status change is demoralizing but necessary after the nature of your condition is clear, not only for the success of the team but for you to have less pressure on you while you change tracks.

This is also typically when your mentors start developing a plan to help you recover, or when they adopt a 'wait and see' approach before intervening further.

Unfortunately, there doesn't seem to be a sports psychologist at Seido. It isn't surprising, but it does mean we don't see that as a potential aid here. Instead, the treatment comes in a way many might consider 'old-fashioned' but is a reality for most people.

Taking an approach such as saying, "go run," without a full explanation of why the break might help or what the long-term treatment plan might be isn't something I'd personally recommend. However, it fits with what we've seen in the strictly hierarchical world of HS baseball at Seido. The coach very rarely or never explains himself to his players, and as readers, we often only find out what he's trying to do through analytical characters like Miyuki, who piece it together themselves.

This is also common, if not desirable according to some cultures, in competitive environments. The coach is in charge - you trust their judgment and assume there is a plan, whether or not you understand it.

This phase is also where we see Sawamura's other established teachers deciding what to do. Chris tells Kanemaru to wait and see, and that he thinks Sawamura will recover on his own.

Miyuki, on the other hand, waffles between not being able to spend time on Sawamura due to his own personal challenges as captain and responsibilities to his struggling team, and wanting to make sure Sawamura overcomes the yips. It's unclear if his motivation is due to guilt, friendship, practicality, or some combination of the three, but in the end, he decides he has to take a proactive approach.

Stage 4 - Everything and the kitchen sink

If the condition persists, try new approaches to replace the lost technique.

This might include learning a new skill so you don't have to do what the yips are affecting, moving to a totally different environment or league, trying a new position, or pursuing any number of therapies. Typically, the old technique is not being used at this point except to test progress. Sometimes this phase will allow a player to ignore their condition by cutting out the problem behavior entirely, thus letting them return to their previous position without recovering from the yips.

There are two main examples of this I can think of that we see during the yips arc. The most controversial is the advice by Ochiai to completely change Sawamura's delivery so he can remain useful to the team. Although this was quickly overturned because of the reason Ochiai suggested it - not actually to help Sawamura's recovery because he was already pitching again at that point but to make him 'useful' - a pitcher changing his delivery to overcome the yips is surprisingly not without historical precedent as an idea. Daniel Bard tried a huge number of things, including temporarily becoming a sidearm pitcher, to recover from the yips.

Ultimately, Miyuki, Chris, and Katoaka settle on the skill replacement idea by teaching him the out-low. It's unclear if the original idea came from Miyuki or Katoaka, though the implication is this was Miyuki's plan, and Chris agreed with it when approached, reversing his previous stance that Sawamura could recover on his own.

Regardless, all three seem hopeful that this new set of pitches can get Sawamura back in the lineup and help him recover mentally. Even with that hope in mind, they know he may or may not ever be able to pitch inside again. That isn't the point of teaching the out-low, though it would (and does) make him more dangerous if he can regain his original pitches. The point is to catalyze a return of Sawamura's confidence for his own sake and that of the team.

It also serves as a foundation for an important mental skill. Relaxing. As goofy as it looks, it works well for Sawamura and makes an enormous difference in his pitching.

Stage 5 (hopefully) - Oh hey, it's back!

With a lot of repetition, experimentation, and a healthy dose of luck, you spontaneously regain what you lost.

If you're one of the lucky ones, your mental block may disappear as suddenly and quickly as it appeared. Something 'clicks' and you're able to perform as you used to. The recovery isn't always permanent, unfortunately, and even if it is, you'll need to practice on your good days to make the consistency stick after so long away.

Ultimately, Sawamura is able to recover after persevering through several games. It was both a joy to see and unsurprising, considering the nature of the story. In Sawamura's case, he ends up stronger for having gone through the yips. Not only mentally, after having his often naively optimistic nature challenged, but physically with a wider pitching repertoire.

One thing I want to make clear before I finish

Although dealing with the yips does require incredible mental strength due to its frustrating and demoralizing nature, recovering or not recovering doesn't prove your superior or inferior character as a person. No person, technique, attitude, or therapy has been shown to reliably reverse the yips once they've occurred. All you can do is work hard, experiment, and hope it pays off. Thankfully for Sawamura, it did, and it allowed us to see him mature significantly as a person and a pitcher.

#daiya no ace #ace of the diamond #essay

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rimofwell · 1 year

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Not a real update but a sort of reflection.

It’s been a hell of a year. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve gotten on here to write an update only to become overwhelmed minutes in. Recounting how things got to where they are seems daunting and honestly impossible. It’s been a hell of a year.

It’s been hard. Sometimes it feels as though things have gotten worse instead of better. I don’t know. I suppose if that’s the case it’s understandable given how many traumatic and triggering events have happened since I last wrote in July.

Lately it seems as though I’ve been coming to the same realizations over and over and over again. It’s like I have this profound insight, only to later realize it’s one I had months ago, maybe even years. I think perhaps what’s different is transitioning from knowing things in my mind to applying them in my life. Knowing is different from believing, from embracing, from practicing, from accepting etc. It’s also a different kind of practice to hold onto the truths you fought so hard to come by when things are difficult, especially when they are difficult as the kids say. Things have certainly been difficult.

Having insight into my life isn’t necessarily what’s been challenging. There are certainly core beliefs I’ve had to work incredibly hard to change, that’s true. But it’s not for lack of insight that I’ve remained stuck in a lot of ways.

My therapist and I talk a lot about splits. All the splits that existed growing up, like with my parents and their seemingly perfect exterior while behind closed doors being quite the opposite. I had these splits modeled for me early and I carried them with me into my life as an adult. I still have them. They’re not as stark as they were but they’re still very real, very present. My moments of genuine calm, of integration, of wholeness that are lost when I get triggered beyond a certain point.

That’s what keeps me stuck. And that’s what’s been the focus of my work now, being able to regulate myself when I feel like I’m past the point of regulation. Being able to skillfully bring myself to a place where I can know these truths even if I don’t feel them in the moment.

I think I give too much weight to the periods of distress I have, somehow believing deep down that those periods are me in my true state and that everything else is simply a facade.

It makes sense. For my whole life, I was forced to act like everything was going well, so I learned to mask everything. I learned to force down that distress, to ignore it, to abandon myself in service of what others wanted. And now, I think giving so much weight to those periods of distress is because I never want to do that again. It’s as if my holding onto those states is holding on to my younger self. Telling her that I won’t leave her again, that I won’t forget.

But now the truth is that I am safe. My life, in many ways, is full. It’s pretty good. Even when I’m suffering so much, it's still good. I’m trying to shift my mindset. Letting go of the belief that these distressed states are more real and seeing them for what they are: memories from a past that nearly swallowed me whole. And while doing so reminding my young self that I’m not leaving her there. That I’m not abandoning her. Instead, I am bringing her with me into this beautiful life we have now.

It reminds me of a quote from someone on here whose name I can’t remember. I can’t abandon the person I used to be so I carry her.

Maybe sometime soon I’ll write bullet points about the concrete things that are going on and where my life is at but for now this is the most real thing I have to say. It’s what feels most true.

#update

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brightgnosis · 1 year

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“Meme Sheep„

Stole this from @morgandria (original here) via the "way back dash" and figured I'd answer them myself for fun.

Please describe briefly your Path:

Currently shorthanded as "Noahidic NeoWicca" for the sake of brevity, because it's the easiest way to explain it. But it's ... Complicated.

Please describe briefly how you practice it:

In Tl;DR terms I worship HaShem as The All, Sovereign Creator (and Sum) of the Universe as a Noahide — and I venerate Adam and Chava (Eve) as the First Ancestors of Humankind as a Traditional Solitary NeoWiccan.

When did you first commit to your Path?

This path specifically? I started returning to NeoWicca in late 2020 / early 2021 and allowed myself to naturally traverse it without expectation or direction to see where I landed. It was roughly mid 2022 when I finally understood "who my Spirits were" finally, so to speak, if I remember correctly; time is a bit of a blur at this point and I have memory problems.

How is your practice different now than it was then?

My practice has undergone a million changes since I started in 2000 / 2001; I've gone from Standard NeoWicca to Eclectic NeoPaganism + Pseudo-Hindu wannabeism, to various formulas of Reconstructionism (Kemetic, Greek, Roman, Irish, Christo-Irish / Transitional Gaelic), and now here. All of them have taught me something integral.

Is your practice different today than how you thought it would be back then?

In many ways yes. But in many ways no- I've actually returned to what I originally was. Just with HaShem back in the mix ... But I think that was always going to be the case for me, having no trauma and no ultimate dislike, and always having maintained a beautiful relationship and inspiration there. I just now understand it all so much better (including myself).

Does your Path and core belief system differ now than how it was when you first started?

Actually, no. More than anything, I think I've better found the language to describe it, and the systems that it works within; the places I actually belong that I've really been searching for the whole time.

What are you still exploring or experimenting with?

My entire path; the whole thing it literally being built from the ground up.

How do you see yourself practicing in ten years?

I don't think that far ahead regarding religion ... Why would I? Honestly thinking that far ahead in a way that creates expectations has always just seemed incredibly weird to me.

What (or whom) are you the most committed to in your practice and on your Path?

Judaism, Noahidism, and learning it correctly.

What are your main influences for your Path?

Noahidism (and its conjoined Judaism) and Traditional NeoWicca are the two major religious areas. Then Mormon Folk Healing, Pennsylvania Braucherei, Slavic Folk Practice, and Continental German Folk Practice as major Ancestral practices. And Sabbatical and Traditional Craft (predominantly Schulke's and Oates' strains) as gap-fillers. Plus some minor influence from Irish / Gaelic Reconstructionism also remains.

What is your heritage and how does this inform your Path?

Ashkenazi Ukrainian, Germano-Slavic, and Ir-Scot. And yes, they very much do given the core of my practice (outside of HaShem) can easily be described as an overly complicated system of Ancestor Veneration and syncretism.

What is your relationship with the Land?

Budding; I've moved since I last had a significant relationship with my local Genius Locorum, and so I'm having to forge a new relationship with new Spirits. It takes a lot of time, and it isn't an easy process.

What is the most frustrating thing about your Path?

Currently being unable to practice a good majority of it because of my living situation.

What is one of the greatest obstacles or struggles you have had to over come?

My own immense imposter's syndrome in regards to how much I do actually know, and how much I am actually qualified (Witchcraft)- as well as whether I have a right or not to be in certain spaces (Noahidism); plus overcoming my trauma from years of religious and spiritual abuse inflicted by the Pagan community, and the agoraphobia it created.

Has walking your Path changed you as a person?

Of course it has. And if your religion hasn't changed or challenged you to be better as a person, then I'd bother to say that frankly you're doing religion wrong entirely; no one needs religion to be a good person. But all religion should challenge and change you. If it isn't? Then what you have isn't religion.

What values and ethics are important on your Path and in your practice?

Truth, Compassion, Goodwill, Good Faith, and Humanity.

How do you incorporate your practice into your life?

The same way any religious person should or reasonably would: I pray often. I attempt to live by the tenants of my religion. I stick to my values as best I can. I repent when necessary (or at the appropriate times). And I celebrate my holidays when possible; etc.

What sort of cycles do you feel your practice goes through?

The same as anyone else's: Activity (action and research) and Fallow (lack of action, lack of research; sometimes ever depression about direction).

One thing you wish people would understand about your Path and/or practice is:

You don't know nearly as much about Wicca as you think you do. In fact, you know virtually nothing at all about it; you'd benefit from actually listening to us when we speak about our own faith, instead of constantly beating your chest like Toddlers over your own pride.

Do you consider yourself to be a priest/ess? How so?

In the true Wiccan denominations, every initiated member is properly considered a Priestex of the tradition. So technically, yes. I am considered one according to the rules of my tradition. Personally, however, I consider actively calling myself one publicly a bit brash and tacky as a Solitary NeoWiccan with no actual formal Coven. So no, at the same time.

What do you feel is the role of clergy in modern Paganism?

The same as its role in any religion: To offer spiritual wisdom and guidance to the lay people in regards to their religion's teachings; and to lead their religious rituals and prayers.

Do you teach?

Yes and no; not formally. I don't have students. But I do advise on occasion through articles, comments, etc, from the perspective of personal experience, research, and thought. Some people appreciate it. Many don't. That's their prerogative.

Which do you do more: practice or research? Do you feel that one is more important than the other?

I definitely do more research at the moment- but only because practice is currently difficult for me due to my living circumstance. Once that changes (eventually) and I'm no longer locked into other peoples' nonsense, my practice will fill out so much more.

As for which is more important? Neither. And I think someone else (though I can't remember who now unfortunately) said it quite well, once, in comparing it to Chemistry: You can't do a Chemistry experiment without blowing your ass up if you haven't bothered to read the damned books ... But if you never actually make the potion? You're not actually a Chemist; both are required in equal measure.

Which matters more: getting the vocabulary right or the actual practice of what we are trying to define?

Both, because language is the core of our communication. If we are not on the same page with the terminology we use, there is no hope for clear and effective communication. Furthermore, if we continue to use harmful or damaging terminology that hurts outsiders, or even members of our own community, how can we honestly call ourselves good people or consider ourselves to be living by righteous values we claim? But at the same time ... In order to correctly define things, we also need to know what it is we are trying to define in the first place.

Do you consider yourself to be a witch? How so?

Once again, in the true Wiccan denominations, every member is a practitioner of magic, because magic is an integral part of the rites of our worship. I also do additional magical workings, rituals, and bits of spellcraft on the side- as well as folk healing. So yes.

The main purpose of ritual is:

Adoration of the Divine (or its substitutes), and attunement with the great mysteries of the Universe.

The most important aspect of ritual is:

Joy, mirth, and reverence.

Can you perform ritual without a script?

Absolutely not. Not just because of my general memory issues, but also because there are typically so many moving parts in a proper ritual (which is not the same as base spell work, though it seems the two are regularly confused for one another) that it is quite helpful to often have a "script" to ensure you don't miss anything, forget a step, or lose your place. Especially since things don't always go smoothly and you may need to deal with, say, a vial of oil spilled all over the Altar right in the middle of things before proceeding; the script doesn't have to be followed to a T, and there's still plenty of room for extemporization. But it does make things go more smoothly as a baseline.

Ritual / Magical tools are …

A symbolic physical aid to better focus and attune one's power when casting spells or performing rituals.

Have you ever preformed spontaneous magic / spellcraft?

Most of my small magic and spellcraft is spontaneous; I'm very much a ritualist when it comes to Rituals, but a Folk Witch when it comes to small craft.

Please tell us something stupid, reckless or embarrassing you did once in your practice:

I have nothing, because I'm genuinely not a stupid or reckless person. I'm not necessarily overly cautious, I do act quite spontaneously on my intuition a lot of the time. But I'm not careless, and only tend to act once I have full information to act confidently. And that has, in fact, saved me from a lot of stupid or careless mistakes over the years without stunting my growth.

I don't really count minor things like forgetting to wear a mask while boiling down Dead Nettle, or accidentally setting a small part of the yard on fire while trying to put more fuel on a ritual fire. Predominantly because those are generally small "brain farts" where I did know better and wasn't trying to be reckless or stupid- I just had a genuine brain lapse in the moment. And I feel no embarrassment from them; they're just normal things that happen on accident- and we all make normal stupid mistakes like that from time to time, even despite our best knowledge.

Have you ever been frightened?

Not really.

The one thing you can’t do without is ...

Candles and Prayer.

Politics and your Path are …

Innately intertwined and inseparable, unfortunately; there is no way to separate politics from religion (but especially not from minority religion).

Seeking personal power is …

Stupid.

What is the purpose of divination?

To see the future. To see yourself. To understand. To make better decisions.

What was the most difficult book you ever read (Either difficult to understand or hard to face what it said or both)?

Can't really name one, I'm sorry!

What book do you recommend the most to others?

It depends on the specific topic- in which case I have an entire library of recommended reading for beginners.

What is you favourite podcast (if any) and favourite blog (other than your own)?

I don't listen to podcasts about Wicca, Witchcraft, Paganism, or the Occult; I find most of them to be as bad as most books on the topic and tend to dislike them. Same with blogs.

If you could impart only one last piece of wisdom or knowledge, or share one experience with the world at large, what would it be?

Take it from someone who made this mistake and learned from it: You know less than you think you do, and you aren't as ready to teach or inform as you think you are. Despite what internet culture tells you, there's actually nothing wrong with that; there is nothing wrong with merely existing as a Human Being- normal, unspecial, and ultimately unoutstanding. It is ok to share your path as an exploration of self via journal, rather than a branding of self as commodity and product. You are Human. So allow yourself to be.

Please finish this meme with a picture, image or photograph of some sort:

🕯️“ Blessed are you, Adonai, Sovereign of the Universe and Source of all Creation, whose glory and might fills the World. Amein. „🕯️

This account is run by a Dual Faith «(Converting) Masorti Jew + Traditional NeoWiccan» & «Ancestral Folk Magic Practitioner» with 20+ years of experience as a practicing Pagan and Witch. If that bothers you, don't interact.

#Personal #Tag Games #2023 #A Direct Look At My Practice #Prayer & Adoration #Religion & Magic

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falled-over · 7 months

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heres my thing i wrote specifically because my teacher wrote a huge paragraph about this exhibition on historical mens fashion (sorry to link a vogue article, i do so only for the photo i need) specifically the following photo;

in which she discussed the dress on the left at LENGTH, around 200 or so words at least, talking about how revolutionary it was for harry styles to wear this dress on vogue. not mentioning ONCE even in passing the dress on the right worn by billie porter a full year prior that kicked up its own media frenzy a year prior.

this pissed me off to no end so i submitted the following for one of my module essays, sorry some of the citations are so lame and there are so few they had to be from coursework. and sorry i couldnt discuss more i only had 500 words give or take

skip the first two paragraphs if you only want to see the rant.

Module 2

2.2 How has masculine dress changed throughout history?

A great quote to describe the history of western masculine fashion ideals comes from a symposium by Dr. Valerie Steele on the colour pink and its history, when she discussed how the colour officially became feminine in the west she said; “The reason pink became feminised, that colour became feminized, was that it left the masculine wardrobe.” (1:23- 1:30). This quote quickly encapsules a reoccurring trend in attitude toward fashion trends that is repeated throughout history in regard to what clothing is considered to be ‘masculine’. The item is masculine until it is considered feminine.

Another example of this rule of this given in the High Heels, Wigs, and Beauty lecture is the feminine appearance of a heel or a high boot. Both of these attributes originally were associated with masculinity because they were practical (as most modern masculine fashion is, anything impractical is feminine), their length protected the leg and the heel could be used to anchor a horse rider’s foot to the stirrup, giving them better control. As well as aesthetic achievements of the heel increasing the wearers height, a masculine ideal.

Women originally adopted heels into their wardrobe to add masculinity to their style, and once they started to do so it was observed that the heel could serve to enhance the appearance of the wearer’s legs and rear end the style was quickly sexualised and lost all staying power in the masculine wardrobe. While there are ways for men to dress in an erotically evocative style the heel became synonymous with a sensual sexuality, that is not compatible with a strong masculine sexual energy. And as a result, heels left the masculine wardrobe in the west.

The fashion cycle has been trending more androgynous for quite some time now, and with the revitalised memory of historical queer, androgynous male icons such as Prince and David Bowie coming back into the public conscious with their deaths, as a contrast to the heavy heterosexual masculinity of the early 2000’s, androgynous male fashion is coming back into style. Coming off of the backs of black, queer American men such as the dress displayed at the end of the LACMA’s collection Reigning men, worn by black, gay, androgynous champion and icon Billy Porter to a 2019 red carpet event, who has worn many dresses to events before and since. That same exhibition also highlights how feminine fashions have even been adopted by white cishet men such as Harry Styles on the cover of Vouge, which at the time kicked up a huge media frenzy. Him being an excellent contrast to Billy Porter, who dresses the way he does as a product of his pride in his identity, as Harry Styles, as an ex-boyband member, is someone happy to mold himself to fit whatever aesthetic is most marketable, even if to outsiders his choice is a perceived risk the amount of backing he received from his core audience is undeniable evidence in the shift on public opinions of masculinity that have been built by queer people for the past few decades.

But ultimately, as is often the case, he reaped all the benefits and cultural relevance from left leaning media built off of a history of androgyny built and fought for by queer black people while their efforts are quietly forgotten. While his iconic cover is an example of a shift in public opinion, attaching him to the head of the movement is wholly attributed to the wrong source.

Steele, Valerie (19 Oct, 2018) “Pink: The history of a Color” The museum at FIT www.YouTube.com. Last Accessed 24/10/2022

King, Emerald (2022) “High Heels, Wigs and Beauty” HAF234, Masculinities, University of Tasmania, Tasmania

https://www.lacma.org/art/exhibition/reigning-men-fashion-menswear-1715-2015 2016, Los Angeles County Museum of Art, 5905 Wilshire Blvd, Los Angeles, CA 90036

i recommend the pink: history of color video, its very fun and interesting.

given more time and space i wouldve explored the neutralisation of mens bodies and fashion and the power this holds, the relationships race and sexuality play and butchness in non-men i think. my other 3 essays all included butch and stud women though so dont be sad. the rant also left no room for a conclusion but this was not an essay it was a short response, feel free to look up my lecturer whos name is included in my citations to see her cosplay which she advertised in every class she taught. also feel free to notice that she only cosplays japanese characters in traditional edo or earlier clothing. i think thats weird for no reason other than i do not like her

#i am so sure i already posted about this but who cares #it wouldve been over a year ago

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macbeth-n-cheese · 2 years

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Early Synth HCs and Thoughts, pt.2

Here we go again!

(shout-out to Data, the OG robot crush)