#because he is both so open and vulnerable

[saionjeans]

anthy and saionji both have long wavy hair, but anthy mostly keeps it pinned up and saionji mostly lets it loose, and they have have inverse hair and eye color schemes. the colors of purple and green operate symbolically within utena in a far less immediately noticeable way than the colors of white, red, or yellow, but they nonetheless perform a necessary symbolic function within the narrative.

we are told in ep 13 ("tracing a path") that the "green duels" (ie, utena's first two duels against saionji) represent "amitié" and "choix" (friendship and choice), while the duel called "révolution" is dark purple. in her initial duels, utena fights for friendship (for wakaba), and then makes the active choice to win so as to keep anthy from saionji's clutches. but "raison," "amour," and "adoration" don't follow this pattern. miki is the one who fights out of "reason," juri is the one who fights out of love, and nanami is the one who fights out of adoration (for touga). you could of course also argue that utena mirrors their desires in various ways: like miki, utena thinks that her desire to participate in the duels is logical rather than driven by ego; like juri, utena is a closeted lesbian who fights for an idealized love object; and like nanami, utena fights out of adoration for her prince. but they are more superficially describing miki, juri, and nanami’s motivations than utena’s. moreover, utena's fights against touga, "conviction" and "soi," go back to primarily representing utena's emotions and motivations for fighting. and finally, the duel called revolution is, of course, not only utena's revolution, but, arguably more importantly, anthy's.

thus, reading these labeled ascribed to color symbolism is not as simple as attributing them 1:1 to different ideas. after all, red is an extremely prevalent color in utena, and reducing it simply to "conviction" and "soi" as akio does is willfully playing into his game of ignoring its significance as it functions as the color of [sexual] violence, among other things. the definitions of symbols we are presented with are not simply what the symbols "mean," but rather what the frame is indicating, and often obfuscating, and the onus is on us as viewers not simply to "decode" certain symbols present, but also to interpret and actively complicate them.

when it comes to saionji's duels, i think you can read these labels both ways; both as utena fighting for wakaba and then for anthy, but also as saionji choosing to fight due to his own complicated friendship. his sunlit garden is, after all, his memories with touga, and his primary motivator and desire for "eternity" is his infinitely complicated desire to both surpass touga – beating him in a duel, acquiring the power he believes touga to already possess, etc. – and regress to a simpler point in their childhoods, which is why he also just refuses to let touga go despite actively loathing the person touga has become.

his hair is green and eminently noticeable, both because it is genuinely beautiful, and also because he basically only ever ties it up when practicing kendo. kendo is when he is most in his element (arguably the only times he is ever in his element and not painfully awkward and cringeworthy), and is also the one thing he actually has that proves that he is superior to touga in some concrete way. but in his student council uniform, he keeps his hair long and loose, like an open wound bleeding out everywhere.

anthy, on the other hand, keeps her long, beautiful, purple hair tied up, and only ever lets it down in her most intimate and vulnerable moments. unlike saionji, who is a pathetic open book, anthy never wears her heart on her sleeve (she claims she doesn't even have a heart). she is always guarded. when she lets her hair down, she looks like an entirely different person. she looks far younger, far more girlish. akio exploits that youth and vulnerability, while utena connects with it as her peer who feels empathy and compassion for her friend's suffering. anthy's purple hair signifies revolution both in the sense that as the rose bride and an "extension" of akio, she perpetuates the infinite cycle of futile stasis, and in the sense that she ultimately does emerge from her coffin and leaves ohtori behind.

so why are her eyes green, and saionji's eyes purple? this inversion is deliberate, of course. to be reductive, anthy has the eyes of "friendship and choice," and saionji has the eyes of "revolution." if hair represents how characters are perceived and interpreted by the gaze of the other, then eyes represent the character's internal gaze projected outwards — or more simply, their worldview. anthy's purple signifies both the coffin as eternal prison and its revolutionary potential upon leaving it. who is most insistent that we must leave our coffins prepared for us by end of the world? and who is given the opportunity to egress through expulsion, but also finds that even as he wishes to escape his coffin, something keeps him miserably moored in ohtori, even as he resists its thrall?

saionji is the character most vocally outspoken against the system, and not only the system of fighting to possess a girl, which is obviously, gratuitously objectionable, but the very premise of ohtori in itself, the system of school as coffin. but he is also the first character we are introduced to who participates in it, and he subscribes to anthy's abuse and exploitation wholeheartedly, almost demonically. even those within ohtori's walls can condemn saionji's blatant, uncouth mode of abuse; unlike the covert and obscured sexual violence permeating ohtori's hallowed halls, saionji's physical violence cannot be obfuscated, and it makes him a target of punishment through satisfying humiliation. everyone enjoys schadenfreude at the expense of a violent misogynist. meanwhile, touga is equally as pathetic and humiliating if not more so, but his methods of violence are less obvious, and due to wholly subscribing to the narrative (ie, akio) and operating within that frame, he cannot be made an object of ridicule as saionji is. saionji is both ridiculed because it is funny to watch a perpetrator of domestic abuse get turned into a monkey, and because his cogent insights must be undermined through mockery within the confines of a narrative he actively attempts to resist.

anthy, on the other hand has green eyes, as does akio. anthy's sunlit garden, if you can even call it that, was her memories of dios as prince. such a memory is only depicted through the falsity of theatrical shadows, an illusion projected onto the literal stage quite like the illusions akio projects across his entire domain. we are then given insight into a "truer" memory (still nonetheless complicated by anachronistic signifiers and the haze of allegory and illusion). but, we are told, anthy made the choice to sacrifice herself for dios. she bore all the pain and suffering of humanity's hatred for years out of love for her brother. what is utena if not a show about friendship and choice? who is anthy if not a young, scared girl who loved too deeply and paid the ultimate price for it?

utena wants to be dios, but touga wants to be akio. anthy attaches herself to dios-as-akio, and saionji attaches himself to touga-as-akio. "you remind me so much of dios when i loved him." the memory of a person you once truly loved, taking on a completely different name in memoriam of that past version, trapped in the perfect stasis of memory, the sunlit garden of the mind, that will never go to seed. the touga of nanami's memories, the touga of saionji's memories, and the touga of the present, are three different people, functionally speaking (and this isn't even getting into the touga of utena's memories in adolescence). just as anthy resents the akio of the present who conflicts with her ideals of dios in the past, saionji attaches himself to a memory of touga, doing everything in his power not only to break free of his own coffin, but to help touga escape his. if anthy fears that utena becoming dios will result in her turning into akio proper, saionji's fear is even more potent, as touga is already in the process of becoming akio, and there is seemingly nothing left to do but become his rose bride.

there is also the obvious fact that, while a distinctly different shade, ohtori school uniforms, especially the boys' uniforms, are largely green. and saionji's kendo outfit is partially purple (albeit a lighter purple than anthy's hair) and partially black (like utena’s shirt). akio/anthy's green eyes can thus be read as their entrenched roles within the walls of ohtori, while saionji's purple hakama when he a) is situated in his element (kendo) and b) says "no matter how you may be abused, you're always happy to be near the one you love" (for which he is immediately dismissed) may signify his latent "princeliness," both as he participates in the system of exploitation and abuse, and as he attempts to resist it.

ultimately, saionji and anthy's inverse color scheme constitutes merely one facet of a much larger tapestry of color symbolism, which could be analyzed endlessly, and lies far beyond the scope of this single post. i merely wanted to draw attention to anthy and saionji's roles not only as visual foils, but also as thematic complements. two coffin-dwellers, trapped in a system that explicitly harms them and harming others in the process (including each other). two sides of the same rose bride paradox. two self-destructive cynics. two idealists who, no matter how they may be abused, are always happy to be near the one they love.

#u #analysis #manalysis #anthy #saionji #akio #utena #touga #eye colors go so fucking crazy #remind me to talk about the utena miki isms next

[hitlikehammers]

time for that age old question: is love enough to beat back the apocalypse?

Because Steve's right there to protect everybody like the self-sacrificing asshole he is help Eddie make the music he's not strong enough for yet help them all put Vecna in the ground for good this time, right?(!??!)

or: what's the song for your walkman, baby? does it even matter?

I Could Be Your Nurse (or something)

Or: Five Times Eddie Has To Ask For Help, Plus One Time He Doesn’t Need It Anymore (but asks anyway) ✨ for @penny00dreadful 💜

<<< three: sleep 🌗

🎧 🎹 four: play 🎶 🛡️

To tell the whole truth of it: it comes too quickly—Vecna’s last stand. Of course it does.

But probably, if he’s being fair: they’d never have been really ready. Not for this, and so maybe it’s best that they’re not fully healed, not at full strength when it all comes to a head, not least because that means Vecna and his petal-toothed brigade aren’t at full strength either. And that choice, for their side, is sloppy; the Party stands on the right-side-up against the attack because they have to. Vecna makes his move because—or else, Eddie’s fairly sure—because the sadistic ballsac is losing his fucking mind.

Which is terrifying, sure, but fuck if it doesn’t help their cause.

It’s actually over pretty quick, even compared to Spring Break which, while it felt like a lifetime for how much it changed Eddie’s own, it’s only been those handful of days—but it’s kinda like the grand finale at a fireworks show: everything all at once then, done. In the everything’s though: he might not like it, but Eddie’s not so foolish as to believe he’s not still too tender, still too deep in healing the finer points of being gnawed alive to be anything but a burden in the thick of it. He refuses to be sidelined, though, and he thinks it says a lot for the long-term health of this glorious impossible thing he’s…building? Yeah, he, umm, he, Eddie Munson, is building a real goddamn thing where he doesn’t even just let someone into his heart and treasures them there, no, he’s building a thing where he gives his heart and gets on new and soft and trembling in kind and they both get to work at the treasuring of something more precious than just their own vulnerable insides, but yeah, yeah:

Eddie thinks it bodes really fucking well for the hopes he has that lean hard toward forever, already, in Eddie’s chest at least when Steve looks his way as they’re planning the teams and he locks eyes with Eddie and Eddie doesn’t even get his mouth open to breathe, to plead don’t cut me out, don’t send me to Wayne to be ‘safe’ or ‘out of harm’s way’ or whatever, don’t leave me so fucking far from you my heart hurts just because it’s beating in the middle space unmoored and shaking around all bruised up with it for not knowing and I know I can’t do what everyone else can but it’ll be bad enough not being next to you please don’t push me far enough that I won’t know the moment you’re safe, just—

Steve meets his eyes, and Eddie’s breath catches before his heart trips, and then Steve speaks up—and he doesn’t, not all that often when the nerdiest among them are shoring up the battle plans—but he watches Eddie without blinking when he pipes up:

“Eddie’s on medical and audio, with Erica and Jon.”

And maybe it’s his tone—this almost wholly novel thing in Steve that’s steely and unquestionable but no one pushes, they nod and get back to work, totally seamless and, and…yeah. That’s all Eddie wanted. Best he could hope for. Just outside the gate they go through. Close enough to hold a hand on the way down, and reach for purchase on the journey back.

Steve swallows hard, and nods at Eddie before he looks away and starts gearing up, twirls his fucking nailbat so it catches the sunlight even thought the metal’s mostly rusted, now and just…Eddie hadn’t needed to say a word. And Steve wanted to send him to safety, the way his throat had bobbed made it real clear there was something heavy he’s held back but: he’d said what he said. He’d laid the line in Eddie’s favor. Eddie wants to hold him, wants to pull him close and feel him breathe, and—

Yeah. Eddie kinda feels like the way it goes is a really good sign for their future as a couple. A couple. Them. Together.

With an always on the other side of all of this that could be kinda fucking magnificent, maybe. Given the chance.

Point being: Eddie gets himself set up with at least a full ambulance’s supplies for first aid, definitely not acquired legally, and a stereo set up he really wishes someone had been kind enough to outfit him with in not-the-apocalypse, holy shit is it gorgeous, but since the strength in his hands is still a work-in-progress, he’s gotta be ready to crank up the noise as a distraction from arm’s-length. It’s actually driving him fucking crazy—or, was; it was, pre-active return to the regularly scheduled world ending—the whole not being able to make music, to translate the noise in his head into sounds on the strings but even that, even that’s been tolerable, survivable because of Steve—who he loves, he gets to love Steve Harrington holy fuck—but Steve’s not just there to be everything and more than the air Eddie goddamn breathes, to become the music just by existing, nope, he one ups that shit: he asked Eddie if it’d be enough to learn the chords he needs. So Eddie could match the words with the notes right, so Steve could be a—

“—kinda piss-poor substitute but,” Steve had shrugged for it with a crooked grin; “but even a bad translator gets a message across, and you’d know when it’s wrong so we can figure out how to fix it and—“

And Eddie’d grabbed Steve’s chin and yanked his mouth close to fucking consume that man like a soul goddamn starved.

“I’d be a shit teacher,” Eddie had mouthed against Steve’s lips after they were sucked well-swollen; “if I still can’t lift the fucking neck for more than a minute,” but Steve had heard none of it, just shot right back:

“You don’t think we’ve beat steeper odds than that?”

And in the face of that raised brow, those red lips parted, that pulse in that neck still a little bit visible like a tease: the fuck was Eddie supposed to do but dive back in and love on the man who’d somehow agreed to be his, and to claim Eddie of all people in turn?

Which is a whole other reason why everything’s gonna be fine: Steve’s gonna make music with him. Steve’s gonna be Eddie’s muse and the vessel for what he inspires. It’s gonna be like Greek fucking poetry, except it’s gonna be them.

So Eddie’s all stocked up, s’got everyone’s floaty-bone-breaky songs queued up on blast for immediate deployment as necessary, and Steve’s the last to go through—he always is, in Eddie’s experience, waits for everyone to be safely accounted for before he spares a thought for himself and it might kill Eddie one day but not fucking today, because it’s gonna be fine—

“Eddie.”

It feels a little like history repeating itself, the way Steve huddles him in a little. Henderson’s through, with Lucas and Hopper and the weird stray Russian, but it’s not like history repeating, because Eddie’s got different words to see him off with; so fucking different.

“Last time I didn’t have,” and Steve reaches, cups Eddie’s cheek, drags down to press on his chest as his voice strains hard: “and it almost killed me,” and Steve usually pinches between his eyes to keep his feelings in check but instead of using his free hand to hold back the tears he reaches for Eddie’s and laces their fingers as his voice cracks and he chokes out:

“Please,” and it’s for everything. For all the almosts from last time; for all the possibilities rife this time. For all the hopes Eddie thinks they share beyond how this shakes out.

“Exceptionally underqualified field med,” Eddie breathes, and squeezes Steve’s hand so, so hard like a promise, because it is; “exceptionally overqualified DJ,” and Steve chuckles, wet but real and it’s enough, because:

“I got it, Stevie,” Eddie bends his forehead to Steve’s to say better than with words that he’s not in this to be a hero, he’ll be right here the whole time, but that doesn’t mean he…that doesn’t mean he can help but to ask this time:

“Just,” and the breath in him punches out unexpectedly as he damn-near begs:

“Only bring me back the little things, yeah? That I know how to fix?”

And they both hear what’s said underneath it:

Don’t turn around and die down there, and kill me in kind..

And—if anyone’s keeping track—they turn out not to need it but: the way the kiss is a wholeass wartime farewell, man.

And then: Eddie waits, and fucks with the speakers for less than an hour before the earth shakes, and his heart drops, but then he hears it.

The fucking whooping of those shitheads echoing through the cracks.

And then he sees it, runs, grabs the first hand that’s clinging to the rope this time and pulls with strength he doesn’t have, is probably more a hindrance than a help but he steadies them each back on the ground and hugs them so tight, kisses more than one of them on the head or the cheek as he doesn’t pretend not to be sobbing through the laughter because they did it, they fucking did it, somehow it’s over and he loves these people and he’s so fucking happy they’re alive and safe and here and—

And the person he loves more, loves most, brings up the rear, a little bloodied, a little scratched up, dingy with the fucking air down there but smiling and Eddie…

Eddie falls into him so fucking hard they both hit the ground and just, just grab onto one another. Just hold and breathe and catch lips every few seconds like an afterthought because they feel each other’s heartbeat where their chests are pressed tight and it’s, they’re…

Steve’s got four broken fingers across both hands. None in a row. He’s basically giving a Vulcan salute by default for how they’re taped.

Eddie loves him so goddamn much it hurts.

And Eddie’d obviously known—once things start to settle in the days that’ve followed—that teaching Steve guitar with those Spock-y hands was on the back burner, but he does ask Steve to sit, and to rest, and to help hum back the tunes in Eddie’s head while Eddie jots lyrics with a hand that’s still shaky but steadying out more every day, and it’s kind of perfect, and Steve adds some things into the melodies either on purpose or by accident but they’re better for it every time and—

Muse and vessel, man. The light of Eddie’s whole goddamn life.

With fucking Vulcan hands still, though, so: excuse Eddie for being…bewildered when his boyfriend—boyfriend, that’s his boyfriend—but his taped-up-healing-Vulcan-handed boyfriend is propping the front door open and lugging in a long, not-recovery-friendly thing that looks close to dropping on his toes and—

“The fuck are you doing?” Eddie asks with a little more panic in his voice than he’d hoped for as he rushes as best he can to where Steve’s kicking the door shut behind him, fluttering his hands around uselessly as Steve maneuvers past him, leans across for a peck at the corner of Eddie’s mouth and calls—“It’s fine, it weighs, like, nothing”—over his shoulder as he settles the, the thing down on the coffee table in the living room they’ve started actually using for, y’know.

Living.

Eddie follows him in, though, because of course, he’s half-a-dog on that man’s heels, whole-caught-in-the-gravity-of-his-everything: but Eddie follows as Steve tosses himself backward with something in his hand, rolls and rucks up his fucking absurd Hawking Middle tee across the sweet curve of his hips, the way the soft give of skin tempts Eddie to run his tongue over the trail of almost-curls, like baby-curls where they lead under the waist of his jeans: Eddie would happily volunteer to survive on the taste of that musky-delicate space until the end of goddamn time—

But then Steve’s huffing a breathless ha from behind a chair where he’d been stretched to reach and a light catches Eddie’s eye from his periphery where he’d been staring unblinking just at Steve: the big long black thing on the coffee table. It takes a genuine concerted effort not to keep at the Steve-staring—not an uncommon state of Eddie’s existence, in all fairness—and check what’s glowing on the table: something turned on. Was plugged in, right, that’s what had Steve rolling on the floor without Eddie on top of or being deliciously pinned down by him.

The something being the big long black thing that Eddie takes in for the whole of it, now: a keyboard.

“Jon picked it up for me second-hand from the place next to Fox Photo when he drove down for his camera, and Rob vouched that it’s a good brand and like, really good condition,” Steve’s raised up on his knees, now with his hands braces on his thighs as Eddie studies the keys, fingers the ends of a every few of the naturals.

“Rob helped with those, too, so I’d know the right, like, chords,” and yeah: they’re stupa of masking tape stuck to the keys with letters in blue, black, and red pen, alternating so they don’t get mixed up, some with and arrow, Eddie assumes, to indicate a sharp.

“I only remember like half of one song from when my parents thought it would look good to have me take piano lessons,” Steve huffs in whole-ass judgment; “my mom wanted the endorsement of the guy who was stepping down from city council, and his wife taught private lessons, so, y’know,” Steve rolls his eyes; “super convenient leading up to the election.”

“What song?”

Steve blinks, tips his head in askance for what Eddie recognizes very clearly as something closer to a croak than a question, his throat all tight. He tries to cough, to clear it.

“What song do you remember?”

Steve snorts at that, leans back on his palms, and fuck is he beautiful.

“Clair de Lune,” Steve grins crooked; “the one song I was allowed to pick, instead of just being assigned.”

“Why’d you pick it?” Not that Eddie doesn’t like it or anything. It’s more that…he knew Steve could more than just drum fingers on keys, if only just, and that a baby grand used to sit in the corner where there’s a stereo cabinet now, but.

But: see, there’s like a whole half of his heart that’s dedicated to collecting new knowledge about everything Steve: his favorite food when he was 12 versus the now. How his favorite color became his favorite color. The story behind all the polos. The nitty-gritties about why he’s in a big-ass house alone for approximately 360 days a year, and how long it’s been that way. Eddie’s whole heart is basically Steve’s but every day that half overflows a little, and Eddie’s only keeping it relegated to parts filled with Steve-lore so he can feel the collection break containment every other day, this grand and joyous bursting under his ribs as everything spills over again, and again, and again until it’s all just Steve, and his heart has to burst or stretch, or both.

Eddie thinks both will be amazing.

And right now, in the interest of building toward that amazing-both: he wants to know why Debussy.

Steve chuckles to himself—better music than any dead French guy by a country mile—and eyes Eddie almost slyly.

“Do you remember Claire Reynolds?”

Vaguely. Like, very vaguely. He remembers…uneven pigtails. Very actual-cult-like vibes about her family as a vague impression and now that he’s bringing it to mind he feels a new wave of indignation: those Children-of-the-Corn motherfuckers were just fine but Eddie liked a board game and he was probably a murderer.

“When we were in like, first grade,” Steve’s continuing on; “she asked me every, single, day, to come over and see her sheep.” Steve looks up at Eddie and bites his lower lip, lets his gaze dance and lets Eddie fall into it for a few dazed seconds before he spells it out.

“She had these crazy eyes about it, it was kinda unsettling,” Steve nudges, but Eddie’s doesn’t get it until:

“And it’s not like I do now, because obviously I don’t, but I definitely didn’t speak a lick of French when I was eight.”

It takes Eddie a hot second before he snorts hard enough to hurt:

Claire, da Loon.

“I was eight,” Steve protests Eddie’s laughter halfheartedly even as he joins in, reaches to slap at Eddie’s upper arm which honestly: just makes him laugh harder.

“Anyway,” Steve fights through the last of the chuckling as it peters out between them, drags himself to sitting next to the coffee table and taps his hand to the top of the keyboard.

“I know it’s not the same as learning guitar to help, and I can probably only get the top and bottom notes with these,” he lifts his Vulcan-fingers his a shrug; “but I was hoping that’d be better than nothing?”

And, like, how Eddie was talking about his heart having to swell, for all the things he gets to tuck inside of it that come with loving Steve Harrington?

He might crack a rib, just now, because—

“This is for me?”

Steve purses his lips, lifts a brow:

“Well, technically it’s for me,” steve singles his fingers, which looks absurd with the splints; “but yeah. To help you get the songs out. I mean, once these are free again, you can help me with the guitar like we talked about, until you’re—“

And Eddie cannot be blamed, see: he cannot be fucking blamed for tackling Steve to the floor and kissing him hard enough to bruise because…

“You got hurt,” Eddie half-breathes between kisses; “you got hurt and I was so afraid I was gonna lose you,” and Eddie reaches for those taped fingers and kisses them, too: so gentle and Steve’s expression softens so quick:

“I was scared, too,” he whispers between them, cups Eddie’s face with his unloaded hand; “you were as safe as I could make you within the fucking city limits but I was still so goddamn scared.”

Cue more rib-cracking for the heart-swelling, because Jesus fucking Christ.

“And you,” Eddie exhales, slow and shaky; “you’re hurt, but you went and got,” he nods to the keyboard;

“I know it’s not ideal,” Steve’s quick to, to what, apologize? For being insane and perfect and—

“Shut up,” Eddie says, voice low and watery and he’s still kissing at Steve’s fingers, holding his wrist delicate but also like a lifeline.

“You’re hurt,” Eddie maybe kinda moans it because he hates it, as much as he’s so fucking grateful that’s it’s just this, no worse than this; “and you still—”

“I promised, didn’t I?”

And that…that’s one thing Eddie’s learned beyond reproach; that even to his detriment, Steve keeps his goddamn promises.

And he’d promised to help Eddie get his words out, to place the lyrics to the notes and help unclutter his brain so he didn’t lose his mind.

Holy fucking hell.

“Steve,” Eddie starts, shakes his head, needs to find the right words. “You’re alive,” the most important thing. “You are healing,” another most important thing, for Eddie to oversee and make sure of, even as Steve keeps an eye on the last lingering threads of the long haul on Eddie’s road to recovery in kind, his beloved mother hen.

“This is,” and he runs his fingers too light to draw sounds across the keys, hopes he sounds as awed and grateful as he feels; “but you, you’ve gotta test, you have to,” and Eddie shakes his head and lifts his eyes to just fucking ask it:

“Why?”

And Steve: Steve just studies his face for a few seconds, reads what he needs before he smiles kinda exasperated, mostly fond and answers so simply, while also breaking a few more of Eddie’s ribs when he just says:

“Because I love you.”

And Eddie’s heart’s not so overfull yet of all of Steve, it’s not fair that it just bursts right then and there, Eddie propelled into Steve’s arms to kiss him deep this time, like he’s searching out Steve’s soul to taste and maybe he is, save that he needs his heart to not have exploded for feeling if he’s going to keep the memory of it safe in his chest for always, he needs to patch his heart back up first but he’s too distracted, too drowned in the way love actually fucking feels, fucking shifts his cells around and makes a new version of him, lets his heart grow bigger except it went and blasted apart with the unprecedented immensity of loving and—

And then Eddie’s got Steve’s taped up hands on both his cheeks, and he remembers that night, in the shower, where Steve ripped the seams from his shirt so taking it off wouldn’t hurt him; notices how Steve is wearing that same fucking shirt in this very moment, all in one piece, like it never split apart in the first place.

Master seamstress, tried and tested and true; truer than anything.

So Eddie just dives back in and kisses with everything in him, thinks maybe when Steve tastes the pieces of Eddie’s blowout heart under his tongue while Eddie goes diving for the sweet lick of Steve’s soul:

Eddie thinks Steve’s mouth might know how to stitch up torn things, too. Especially the kinds that are ripped at their seams wholly for the sake of loving that fucking hard.

✨permanent tag list: OPEN (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @pearynice @hbyrde36 @slashify @finntheehumaneater @wxrmland @dreamwatch @perseus-notjackson @estrellami-1 @bookworm0690 @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @nerdyglassescheeseychick @swimmingbirdrunningrock @goodolefashionedloverboi @sanctumdemunson

divider credits here & here

👾 title credit here

💫 ao3 link here

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #hurt/comfort #whump #fluff #happy ending #angst with a happy ending #soft #pining #slow burn #(ish) #steddie fic #deep devoted caretaker steve #smitten recovering post S4 eddie #sharing a bed #sleeping together #not like THAT #HE'S RECOVERING OKAY #nightmares #though maybe it IS time to address the...crush-confession-dick-grazing-shower-thing #like: just MAYBE #love confessions #domestic fluff #5+1 things #stranger things #gift fic #penny00dreadful

[not-goldy]

https://www.tumblr.com/not-goldy/748392902553649152/httpswwwtumblrcomnot-goldy748386443834048512?source=share

Let's make one thing clear i wasn't the og anon who asked you about the "did jungkook said all those vile things to jm" but i did saw it so i commented on it and i stand by the fact that making fun of someone's looks when the said person is insecure about his looks is "evil" cause it is. The male treat e/o differently bs you can keep to yourself cause teasing is one thing but making fun of someone's insecurity is not the same get that fact clear.

Did i anywhere said jungkook is not jimin's friend? NO i did not so idk exactly what y'all are yapping about. Did i say "And jk is the standard of love for jkkrs" refering to his past self which jkkrs romanticize and glorify? Yes i did. so now what all it means is i said jungkook is not "the partner" for jimin and i never commented on their friendship and there's difference between friendship and romantic relationship. You can't always chose your friends or even best friends as your romantic partner cause you don't feel it and it doens't work like that. Just because someone's friends with you doens't mean you see them as your partner cause you want more and different. Also the ppl who says we make jm looks pathetic nahh bro fact here is it's you who love the "jm fell first jk fell harder" edits not us. Jm is sweetheart with everyone and he especially takes care of his younger ones, he babies V too who's literally 2 months younger than him. Just because jk learned how to be nice over the years doens't mean it can erase what he said when he was 18-19-20 yrs old. He did say all those things to jm it is what it is.

About the anon who said you have been waiting for jm and jk to reveal their partners from 2017 cause ppl said so then you and those people both are dumb cause why on earth would you think they're gonna reveal their partners at their peak?? By revealing their partners i completely mean them officially introducing and CONFIRMING their partners which is also not the case with taennie (i know they dated but they never confirmed so doens't fit in what i mean). Like they debuted in 2013 and you were expecting their partner's official reveal in 2017 cause some ppl said so? Lol. But here i say wait for some more years. Let them get to the age of 35-40 and you'll see. And the list you posted to show how jungkook treats jm can be applied to how jungkook treats other members too then, so maybe he's dating them too (again except one gcft yet). Btw we all did saw jungkook with a woman at night in his apartment, back hugging her....yes he doesn't have a gc now but does that earse the exsistance of that video? The times when jkkrs were like "he's missing his love of life jm" while the guy was having women at his home? Sure. He was missing jm so much that rather visiting jm at any of his sets or anything like other members jungkook was at home doing lives singing songs live..i see how much he was missing. I'm not telling this because i expected that from him it's because y'all make big deal out of nothing.

Anyways, idt y'all gonna be here after those many yrs but if y'all stay I'd love to see that reaction.

Again with the anachronisms

I'm running out of patience here-

When did you find out Jimin was insecure about his looks??? 2013, 2014? 2015 when he was in his hypermasculine state doing 360 flips in the air, flexing his biceps, talking bout girls chasing him, when he was strong confident in his masculinty and showing it off- is this the same year he opened up about his vulnerabilities???

In fact when did Jimin discuss this self image issue???

And when was Jungkook teasing Jimin????

Making fun of his insecurities bitch you're crazy. Lost it. Pulling stuff from your ass get a life cos your whole existence is an illusion.

In your crazy delusional head what did you think was happening???

Poor poor insecure Jimin walking around shy hiding from people explaining to everyone he has body image issues while his younger maknae followed him around pointing to him telling the world his biceps was fake his abs had been drawn on????

Same Jimin who had the hyung line busting their ass off to catch up? Same Jimin whom the company used as a model for the others to emulate Same Jimin whom the company preferred him showcasing his gorgeous body and the others had to work had to attain his level of physique but even that they were still passed over for Jimin???

Same Jimin?????

Use your brains for a sec, with the way he looked and the way he carried himself around who could tell he was feeling insure??? You only know that NOW years forward into the future when he opened up and not the actual moment it was happening.

You think Jungkook would play like that with him if he knew any of that ? And ever since he'd become like that- well as you put it, he's been "nice".

Well well well

Again confirming my diagnosis of you and your kind

"Just because JK has learned to be nice over the years don't erase what he said and did when he was 18 19 20

Actually he was 15, 16, 17 you creep.

Also you are not saying anything we don't know. Like I said WE KNOW HOW YALL WORK you not difficult to figure out.

At least you admitting he's a nice person others of your kind have a hard time admitting that.

If you want to Judge a grown man you claim is nice over his playful ribbings with HIS FRIENDS WHILE HE WAS A MINOR that's your crazy to deal with.

But do tell that to your new recruits and the impressionable minds you try to twist and brainwash like the fine Tuktukker relative you are.

I simply disagree with you. That's all.

I don't see any of what he said and did as malicious. He did it with everyone and especially Taehyung. Jimin simply wasn't comfortable with that which is fine because he's after all not a very typical or traditional male in every sense of the word and how was Jungkook to know he couldn't just toss him around and throw him in the air and break his back like he was doing his other friends.

We all have our idiosyncrasies and I think BTS work so well because they have learned to respect eachother's boundaries- well some of them.

I think if that was Jimins boundaries he is entitled to his boundaries and all anyone can do is respect those boundaries.

But I'm starting to also appreciate why JK solos would equally hate Jimin and Jimin stans like you.

I mean for one he was also constantly disturbing that dude trying to kiss him and bug him when CLEARLY JUNGKOOK ALSO DIDN'T WANT THAT especially as it was done publicly. For an introverted fella I can see how stressful that whole experience must have been for him 🥺🥺🥺🥺

Poor poor guy 🥲

Respect goes both ways Anon.

You can't insist on your boundaries while also constantly pushing someone else's. Especially since Jungkook was the shy type and didn't like being the center of attention. If someone doesn't want to be bothered or doesn't want to be friends with you you leave them alone. You don't act sad about it on camera and inadvertently put your fans on their back.

I'm open to discussing all the toxic things Jimin did as a teen with you since you enjoy living in the past but ll rather redirect you to another toxic Jk solo who is equally stuck in the past as you so you two can take each other out.

For me, jikook grew and I grew with them.

Take care.

[etheralsweetheart]

MK characters with a breeding kink (PT. 2)

Yeah… it’s been a while. I wanna thank all the people who stuck by and for those who sent me requests, I will still try and answer them, but I cannot promise writing them all. Anyways enjoy this!! (Breeding duh, reader is female, degradation, kano, pregnancy kink, tell me if I missed anything)

Hanzo Hasashi

I think this one’s pretty obvious. As we know, he used to have a wife and son before they got killed. But with you in the picture, you managed to make him heal from that trauma and move on. He gave love a second chance and that’s where you guys… were at your wedding. Hanzo couldn’t have been happier in his new life. Being by your side, surrounded by all your loved ones.

After the wedding ended you and Hanzo went to your hotel rooms. You were slowly undressing yourself when you suddenly felt warm hands massaging your back.

“Hanzo..”

 “Shh.. I know dear” he whispered into your ear before guiding you to the bed. Scorpion wanted to throw you on the bed and ravage you. He wanted to claim what was his, but Hanzo wanted to treat you right. Give you the love you deserve.

All you could do is moan as your husband kept pounding his cock in you. He was trying to be gentle, but couldn't help but speed up. Scorpion wanted nothing more than to breed you to give him a new heir that will carry on his legacy. You felt dizzy with how fast he was fucking you and it didn’t help that his whole body was getting wartmer by the second. The whole room smelt like sex as he kept pounding until both of you climaxed.

You shortly passed out. He chuckled before kissing your head and dozing off to sleep.

Raiden

In my opinion both Raidens work (That is mk1 and mk11)

I feel like he has a breeding kink, not only because of selfish reasons but also family reasons. Mk11 Raiden has a brother and probably helped raise Liu Kang and Kung Lao with the monks. As for mk1 Raide, he just gives me the vibes that he would want to be a father. No matter the version, Raiden loses his cool with you. Just seeing you vulnerable and putting so much trust in him makes his cock so hard. And he feels guilty thinking sexually of you. But he can’t help wanting to fuck his cum deep inside you and secretly hoping to get you pregnant. Of course he’d be gentle with you, except we're talking about dark Raiden.

While he cares for your comfortability, getting you filled with cum is more on his mind than anything else. He just wants to bend you over any surface and fuck you until you pass out. Like the others he would also hope you give him a heir, so he can pass his legacy along.

Kano

Okay Kano. He’s only into breeding because he loves the feeling of cumming deep inside your cunt. His dick cums so so much and you can only pray that he doesn’t get you pregnant, because you know he won’t stick around. But you’d be lying if you said you didn’t love the way his meaty cock would shoot ropes of cum deep into you. The way he pounds deep into you while he keeps whispering dirty things in your ear makes you dizzy. The alcohol smell on his breath doesn’t help either…

Erron Black

Like Kano, he’s purely doing it for the feeling. There’s nothing that he loves more than to bend you over and fucking you until you can’t even think straight. Not only that, but he’s also a exhibitonist.He likes doing it in risky places, such as at night, on a balcony, open windows and the list goes on.. but he would be lying if he said he doesn’t wanna see you pregnant. Erron was raised with traditions, except he didn’t follow each rule and often rebelled. It doesn’t help the fact that he also lives wild. But hopefully as he gets older and works for Kotal Kahn, he might actually try for a kid. One won’t hurt

#mortal kombat #mortal kombat character #mk #mk1 #mortal kombat mk1 #hanzo hasashi #hanzo hasashi x reader #scorpion x you #scorpion x reader #mk scorpion #mk11 #mk11 x reader #raiden #mk raiden #raiden mk1 #raiden mk11 #raiden x reader #kano #mk kano #kano x reader #erron black x reader #mk erron black #erron black #🩵⚡ #💛🦂h #🖤🐲 #🤎🤠

[loveyourownsmiilee]

I’m kind of vibing with your theory of Ryan knowing about Buddie or at least the potential of it from basically the beginning. I read your theory after someone else just asked about it and it makes sense to me. And honestly if they’d allowed the queer arc for Buck in earlier seasons, I can kind see it happening in a similar fashion as it has with Tommy but with it being Eddie. Oliver confirmed with his interview with Gay Times that there was discussion well before this season of Buck having a queer arc but it was tabled/shut down. That conversation would have made sense to take place when Oliver was brought in on the idea of Buddie.

Definitely seems plausible. I hope we do get Buddie on screen eventually because then we might get the confirmation on all of this 😂 because now I want to know if you’re right! Sure seems like you could be.

Hi! Oh thank you that’s so kind of you lol. I mean we’re all speculating and theorizing and having fun! I’ve just always been under that notion that he may know something. They typically do tell one half of the couple and it would make sense if it was Ryan. And that would explain why he was all “they’re just bros. Haha he’s my brother” bc he didn’t wanna give too much away. Like he over corrected so he wouldn’t let anything slip if that makes any sense lol. But then Oliver confirming it was gonna happen a few years back. We all kinda assumed it would happen end of s4 leading up to s5 did we not? Especially when Eddie was having full fledged panic attacks at the idea of settling down with his girlfriend lol. But regardless if it was meant to be a few years back or present time, who else does Oliver have such natural raw chemistry with to make it believable and progress a romantic relationship where the audience enjoys it and it isn’t rushed and half assed?? Oh right with Ryan. I’m just idk I’ve always always been convinced buddie is inevitable bc of the development we’ve seen and how beautifully their relationship has progressed to what it is currently. They’re really two men co parenting and relying on one another for most things. Not only that but they’ve both been so vulnerable and opened up to one another in ways they’ve never done with their actual romantic partners. I really think conversations have been had earlier on this season and both Ryan and Oliver have been told by Tim is slowly happening and they’re gonna start with Buck first while simultaneously laying down the tracks for Eddie’s own sexuality storyline to come afterwards. It’s happening I mean it’s the only plausible thing in my honest opinion.

#juju answers #wolfmadefromash #buddie #ryan guzman #oliver stark #911 speculation

[ghost-proofbaby]

You have to keep him alive, she absently thinks. She assumes the thought is private. If anyone may hear her, she only prays it’s Gale. He’s not all bad, and you have to keep him alive.

summary: aruna nearly dies (again).

wc: 5.9k+

warnings: descriptions of drowning, descriptions of being stabbed by a log, a lot of everyone being bad at feelings (both in present and in the... past? the other timeline? not sure what to refer to it as)

a/n: how many times can aruna almost die in this fic? let's find out, ig.

ao3 | masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter

“Wyll, no!” 

Aruna should have saved her breath. She really, really should have. 

There’s no air to spare in her lungs, mouth left wide open still, as she crashes into the current below. It’s a vicious thing – the water shows no grace as it moves her center of gravity, pulling her along in the rush, so quickly she doesn’t hear the shouts of her companions. 

Another voice even joins them. An unfamiliar one, that somehow carries just as much concern as she practically drowns. 

Similar to when she’d first used her magic, Aruna doesn’t have to ponder or remember if she can swim. Her body acts accordingly; her feet kick exhaustingly, her arms try to move against the waves to slow her down. Nothing works. All she gets out of it is another mouth full of water as a sudden drop in the river yanks her under. 

This is it, she thinks through the burn of her lungs as the fresh water fills them, this is how I die. I managed to survive the poisoning only to die because I slipped. 

She wonders if Astarion would have laughed had he been there. 

It’s meant to be a soothing thought, but through her sheer panic, all she can recall is Shadowheart’s reveal. The way Astarion had been frantic when he’d returned her to camp, the way he had been so ferociously protective of her while she was in such a vulnerable state.

Her shadow had left her to her own devices, and this time, he wouldn’t be there to save her. 

I wish he was. 

Her elbow scrapes against a jagged rock as she breaks the surface of the water again, gasping for breaths before she’s taken under again. It stings – Gods, it stings – and her palm only takes a beating when she tries to grab onto the culprit. 

It’s too deep for her to reach the bottom. She can’t stop. She’s completely at the water’s will, and she’s going to drown. 

Save Astarion, no matter the cost. 

Maybe the letter had meant her blood.

Save Astarion, no matter the cost. 

Maybe now that she had allowed him to feed, had given him a group to travel with, he’d be safe. 

Save Astarion- 

A hand wraps around Aruna’s bicep suddenly, her arm being the only thing even poking out of the water, lifting her up with absolutely no gentleness. She swears, there’ll be bruises in mere hours from the rough-handling. 

She’s tossed suddenly to a nearby bank, a broken branch stabbing into her side. If she had any breath left, that certainly would’ve taken it. She yelps out regardless as her fingers dig into pebbles below, no longer being dragged violently down the river, only below her knees still in the current’s grip. 

The water around her runs a light pink as she army-crawls her way up the bank to get clear of the currents. 

“Aruna!” 

It’s Shadowheart screaming for her. Even with spotted vision, even as she’s coughing up mouthfuls of water, she can decipher that voice. Which begged the question…

“You-” a very wet Gale gasps, his hand still holding onto her bicep for dear life, “-have got to stop nearly dying.” 

“Can’t breathe,” she hardly manages wheeze out, trying to sit up and failing miserably, still feeling the stabbing pain of the branch that must be lodged between her ribs, “I- I-” 

Gale’s touch suddenly turns gentle, tossing his head about to get his hair out of his eyes as he looks her over. It’s only once he’s turned her onto her back, water rushing into her ears but no longer drowning her, that he spies the culprit. 

What in the Hells has happened? 

It’s certainly not her own voice in her head sounding detrimentally pissed off as she continues to whimper, struggling for each deep breath that gets cut short. 

“Hold still,” Gale instructs her sternly, maneuvering their bodies so that her head rests in his lap, leaning over her as his shaking hands hesitated in touching that branch. A few droplets of water run down the bridge of his nose, dripping down onto her chin, but she hardly cares. 

She can’t breathe. 

Where are you? 

Astarion’s voice in her mind does little to soothe all her panic. She’s not going to drown, but she has a giant fucking log of wood pierced into her side. 

When she doesn’t respond, she can feel irritation traveling down that tadpole bond. It’s weaker than she’s used to – not nearly as potent as it was whenever she was actually in camp with Astarion – but she can still feel every swirling emotion as he does. 

Irritation. Anger. And then… panic. 

Not her own. A sense of urgency that bleeds into the one consuming her now, mixing in a disastrous way. A kind of desperation that would make a man pull a dagger on his fellow companions, demanding help for the limp girl in his arms. The kind of anguish you don’t feel for a stranger.

“Shadowheart!” Gale yells suddenly, fingers hardly prodding the surrounding armor around the wound, only to elicit a yelp from Aruna, “I- Gods, I- I’m sorry. Shadowheart, we need healing!” 

The water is cold. Her entire body aches with shock, the wound beginning to numb once Gale moves his hands to simply cup each of her cheeks. They offer a little bit of warmth, something she’s quick to welcome, leaning into them as she continues to struggle. 

The shallow water here is turning a darker shade of pink, swirls of red focused at Aruna’s right side, exactly where the rather large stick protrudes. 

Aruna, tell me where you-

River. 

It’s all she can muster to offer him over the bond. She can hardly even flutter her eyes open, barely making out Shadowheart’s silhouette on that distant makeshift bridge. 

“If I die,” Aruna manages to croak, and she suddenly feels Gale’s hold on her cheeks press just a little bit harder, “Do me a favor and-”

“No,” Gale stresses, tearing his gaze away from where Aruna thinks Shadowheart still is, “No, you are not dying. Save your energy.” 

“If I am-”

“If you make me promise to take care of that damn dog,” Gale’s voice wavers, dark brown eyes locking with Aruna’s own amethysts, “I’ll leave Astarion to deal with him. I swear.” 

“Shut up about the dog,” Aruna nearly laughs, but the new wave of pain effectively cuts her off, “I’m more worried about Astarion.” 

Gale’s entire demeanor changes. She watches as waves of concern and confusion drag him under just as the river had done to her, “Astarion?” 

She manages to nod her head, even with his steady palms on either side still. 

“He’s not all bad, y’know,” her voice is a whisper of a murmur, hardly audible over. Her eyes flutter shut once more, fatigue making her bones heavier than even her soaked armor. She swears she hears sloshing footsteps nearby, “And… And I have to… I’ve gotta keep him…”

“Aruna,” Gale begs now, shifting beneath her. She can smell his cologne now, even through the biting wetness of the river’s bank. It’s sweeter than Astarion’s, softer, “I promise you, whatever business you have with Astarion, you can take care of once we’re back in camp. We are getting you back to camp.” 

You have to keep him alive, she absently thinks. She assumes the thought is private. If anyone may hear her, she only prays it’s Gale. He’s not all bad, and you have to keep him alive. 

She thinks for a moment that she’s said it outloud as Gale starts to call out to their other companions frantically once more, as though her words may have triggered something within the man clinging to her. She swears she can feel them dragging her body further out of the water, causing her to shiver ferociously as the lightest breeze damn near freezes her. 

I won’t be doing anything of the sort. You will – because you’re not dying. Keep him alive yourself, Aruna. 

He hadn’t said that outloud. Any voices she can hear are all muffled, but Gale’s voice comes through clear as day. 

It’s a different caress than her connection with Astarion. Whereas the presence of Astarion in her mind causes a soft purr, a gentle warmth that she’s eager to nestle into, Gale’s presence is electrifying. Sparkling, dazzling. Shivers run up and down her spine, and she can’t distinguish if they’re due to being completely out of the water now, or if they’re due to the new occupant privy to her mind and thoughts. 

Even the dancing, purple sparks that she can nearly envision behind her closed lids aren’t keeping the beckoning darkness away at the edges of her consciousness. 

Before it takes her, though, that familiar warmth is back. She decides as she hears the call of Astarion’s voice in her mind, that if he were to be allotted color, it would be a deep burgundy. A staining maroon. Something deep, something old, something warm. Bolder than even the blood she can feel still slowly seeping out of her wound. 

If you die before I get to you, I will incinerate the wizard. 

The darkness claims her. 

—

“I think you like Gale more than you let on,” Aruna teases from her seat at the particularly fancy stool Astarion had set out in front of his tent’s entrance. She wasn’t even sure where he’d procured it, the red velvetine of the cushion far nicer than anything else that litters their camp. She’d be complaining relentlessly about it, if it wasn’t for the fact that the comfortable stool had practically become hers from how often Astarion allowed her to loiter about and sit on it. 

“Is that so?” Astarion murmurs, his nose currently buried in a book as he stands, eyes flitting over the pages. Another item that she’s clueless as to how he’d obtained it – along with the other fifty tomes stacked within his tent. 

Aruna leans forward, legs crossed beneath her, hardly balancing on the cushion, “Indeed. Don’t think I didn’t notice you saving him from that kobold earlier.” 

At this point, Aruna’s convinced he’s only pretending to read, blatantly ignoring her to get a rise out of her. He hasn’t turned the pages in several minutes. Plural. 

“His magic has proven useful from time to time,” Astarion drawls, shifting his weight between his legs but still making no move to look up at Aruna, “Besides, I’m sure if I let the wizard perish, you’d have my head.” 

“Do you think me so cruel?” 

“I know you so cruel.”

He’s wearing a half-smirk, and she hates the way it lures her closer. She has half the mind to demand they all call it a night early, if only to get Astarion alone in his tent so that she could curl up within a safe distance from him, not quite touching, but still locked away in their own little bubble.

It’s not the same camp as the one they began in. They’d long since left that one behind, their journey taking them farther than any of them had ever anticipated. Earlier in the day, they’d taken to investigating the Creche – although it hadn’t lasted long when they’d stumbled into a room of kobolds, and an ill-timed firebolt on Aruna’s account had nearly burned them all to ash from all the firewine in the room. 

This camp suits him better, though, Aruna thinks. The sun shines brighter here without the cover of the forest around. A certain golden hue floods their small nook within the mountains, and the way Astarion basks in it is a sight to behold. 

His skin and hair is so light, he almost becomes the sunlight. 

“I have no idea what you could possibly mean,” she hums in a playful tone, leaning back, narrowing her gaze at him, “I am an absolute ray of sunshine, I’ll have you know.” 

“On whose account?” he scoffs, finally snapping that book shut. He doesn’t even mark the page he’d been holding up this entire time, “Yours, or that poor merchant you flambeed?” 

Some of the playfulness deflates out of her shoulders, “That merchant was not some poor soul. She was demanding we hand over a child, Astarion.” 

“I’d hardly consider a githyanki egg a child. And it could have awarded us quite the pretty amount of gold.” 

“I couldn’t give a damn about the gold. Even without Lae’zel present, I would have wanted to turn that gods-awful woman to nothing more than a pile of soot and ash.” 

He finally looks at her, taking steady steps towards her until he’s within reach of setting his book down at the table before her. There’s a mirror balanced there, one that proves useless to him, but he still keeps it around for some reason. 

He leans down until he’s eye-level with her, still just out of reach, ruby eyes glowing, “Remember that the next time we come across a trader who holds a pretty weapon that you ache to get your hands on.” 

“That was one time,” she scowls as he cracks a deceivingly sweet smile. 

“All it takes is a taste of corruption, my dearest Aruna.” 

It wasn’t her proudest moment, admittedly. But Astarion had been just as eager to comply when Aruna had pulled him aside and whispered the request to him – she’d distract the merchant, and he’d put his nimble hands to use by getting the enchanted bow that had caught Aruna’s eye. It had worked out in the end. That bow had proven more than just useful, repeatedly proving it’s worth in battle when Aruna would use it to cover Astarion from any foes he happened to not notice. 

He knows she’s recalling the moment as she shifts to suddenly stand and leave his tent. But she doesn’t even make it to her feet before he’s caging her in, a hand steadied on either side of her against that rickety table, fully invading her space now. 

No one else in camp even blinks an eye. Gale is across the camp, deep in discussion with Karlach as Wyll idles near them, clearly listening in. Lae’zel is out of sight, but the sharpening of her sword can be heard clearly. 

They’d all known that Aruna had taken to fortifying with the vampire. She hadn’t been very sneaky about it. That was more Astarion’s style – not hers. 

What they didn’t know, however, was how far it had gone beyond the exchange of bodies. Long gone were the nights of distracting sex and honeyed words of seduction; in their place now settled quiet nights of simple discussions in Astarion’s tent, whispered confessions of haunting pasts exchanged rather than bruising kisses. A bearing of scars, of souls, rather than their nude bodies. 

He’d never explicitly said it, but Aruna knew better than to utter a single word of what Astarion confided in her during those private moments. He’d trusted her – he trusts her. 

And so she let him keep up the overly flirtatious act in front of others. For as long as he allowed it, she would let them think she was doing nothing more than keeping his tent warm. He was well worth that scuffed reputation. 

“Now, just where do you think you’re going?” 

A game of cat and mouse still exists between them, and she never can tell if it’s still just for show. She can’t tell if he can hear it – the unfortunate thrumming of her heart, always racing when he’s near, even without her own volition. 

She’s toeing a dangerous line. 

Mindless sex was fine. A blooming friendship was encouraged. But whatever she had begun to feel? Somehow, she’s convinced she’d rather be known as Astarion’s plaything than ever admit the fondness brewing within her. Better for everyone to assume she only wanted Astarion for his body, for the pleasure he could bring her, than to confess the way his words were amongst the most sacred things he had offered her. Better to play the role of a doting fool vying after his alluring lips than to admit that his mind intrigued her more than a single muscle across his lean form. 

It would simply have to become her best kept secret. Both from all their companions, and especially from Astarion. 

“To speak to Gale and Karlach,” she snarks, tilting her chin up, meeting his daring gaze, “At least they have the galls to admit when they consider you a friend.” 

“Full of fire tonight, are we?” his voice drops to a whispering rasp, eyes flickering across her face. Any onlooker might assume he’s simply catching a glance at her lips in hopes of a kiss, but she knows better. Just two nights before, he’d admitted (although it had taken quite a bit of persuasion on Aruna’s part) that he was mesmerized by the freckles across the bridge of her nose. Someone of drow lineage, kissed by the sun. It was a rare sight, and one Astarion hadn’t stumbled across in all his years before. “We both know you’ll grow bored before the sun even sets. They won’t play with you like I will.” 

“Perhaps I’m not in the mood to play tonight, Astarion. Maybe I’m just looking for earnest conversation.” 

He recoils slightly, faux disgust wrinkling his nose, “Earnest conversation? Ugh, spare me. You’ve truly been spending far too much time with Gale.” 

If she were stronger, if she had just a bit more self-restraint, she would have held back her bark of laughter. But she’s not – she’s nothing more than molten putty when it comes to him, all her worst flaws exposed against her own will, and her head tilts back as she lets out a sound that nearly embarasses her to death. Something between a choked scoff and an orc-ish snort. 

The sun is so bright at his back, she doesn’t notice the glimmer of something reflected. Not from the mirror, but from herself. 

A brewing fondness bathed in the golden hour. A best kept secret that Astarion swears he’ll get a hold of, come Hells or high water. 

It’s a good look. On both of them.

—

Aruna comes back to with a start, just as Shadowheart has yanked the branch from her side. 

“Fuck!” she screams out instinctively, going to reach for the wound before Gale grabs her wrists. He manages to corral both her arms and press her back down, allowing the cleric who kneels in the mud beside her to properly look at the wound as her own hands glow with magic. 

“Welcome back to the world of the living, my friend,” Gale quips, hardly breaking a sweat as he continues to fight against Aruna’s thrashing, “Thought we lost you there for a few seconds.” 

Seconds? Aruna head pounds as though she had been out for days, not seconds. The same heaviness in her chest from when she’d been poisoned lingers now, making it exceptionally difficult for her to writhe in pain as her body was attempting to. Attempting to wriggle away from the pain, away from the thing that was technically helping her. 

“What-” she gasps out, trying to steady herself, to stop moving. Another flash of Shadowheart’s magic has her crying out again, however, body twitching to its own accord, “What do you mean seconds?” 

She grits the words out between grinding teeth, hands turning to fists as Gale refuses to relinquish his hold. She’d have to thank him later – she doesn’t know if she’d be capable of holding down one of them like this, even if it were clearly necessary, if they were grunting out in such severe pain as she was currently.

The entire right side of her body felt as though it was ablaze. Everything else had been thoroughly chilled, her teeth even attempting to chatter from the cold, but the heat that radiated from where she’d been stabbed persists. 

“You passed out,” Gale explains as though it was obvious. He’s unaware of what she’s just experienced; he’s unaware of where exactly her mind had gone for those mere seconds. “Likely from the pain and blood loss, and surely the lack of oxygenation from almost drowning wasn’t helping. You’ve got yourself into quite the situation here, it seems,” he pauses and glances down at her as another strike of Shadowheart’s magic pulses into her. This time, only her face moves, twisting up into a wince, “I am truly sorry for the discomfort. It’ll be over soon. We just have to stop the bleeding of the wound, at the very least.”

She can feel the skin of the wound twisting and reforming, from the inside out. If it weren’t from the pain of the healing, she’d probably be able to notice the way her breaths were finally coming more easily to her. 

“Right,” she manages to spit out as Shadowheart’s magic begins to wane once more, “Of course. Stop the bleeding. I can handle that.” 

“I have healing potions back at camp,” Shadowheart mumbles through her concentration. She looks positively drained when Aruna dares to peep a quick look, paling with each passing second that she uses more of her magic, “If I can just-”

“Am I still bleeding?” Aruna asks suddenly.

Shadowheart looks up, eyes wide, albeit a bit dull, “You’re… No. The bleeding has mostly stopped.” 

“Great. Then let’s go to camp.” 

She doesn’t want the half-elf wasting any more precious magic on her than necessary. They’d return back to where they could rest, she’d take one healing potion from Shadowheart (and not a drop more), and she could see if a restless night’s sleep might do the trick. 

If she could just walk, it would all be fine. Surely time could heal this wound. 

“Are you sure about that, soldier?” a new voice sounds from above Aruna, and the dizzying deja vu that had incapacitated her to the point of falling returns. This time, thankfully, it doesn’t affect her nearly as detrimentally, “I just- That stab looked pretty gnarly. You might want to let the healer do her thing before-” 

“Karlach.” 

Aruna isn’t sure how she knows the tiefling’s name, but the moment her eyes land on her, it simply comes to her. The flames still idly lapping at the warrior’s skin, her uneven horns as one curls fully over her head of hair and the other has clearly been broken off. She knows this force of a woman – she’d seen this woman in that goddamn memory that had stolen away precious seconds in the here and now. 

Wyll looks painfully guilty as he stands a few feet away from her. 

“This was the woman from your visions,” Aruna attempts to cover up her recognition easily, and everyone seemingly buys it, “This… this was the devil you were chasing?” 

“The past tense there is very important, my friend,” Wyll insists, swallowing hard and glancing at Karlach again, “She’s… Well, she’s no devil.”

“Make no mistake, it was an honour to be chased down by the Blade of Frontiers, but-” Karlach excitedly begins, but Aruna only softly smiles as she cuts her off. 

“No need to explain yourself,” Aruna somehow knows more than she should. But if every other encounter was the blueprint for this one, surely they had all seen the truth. If Karlach was still standing there, unharmed, Wyll having resigned his hunt – they knew she was a friend, “I’m Aruna. Nice to meet you. Although, I wish we had met under… better circumstances.” 

“Oh,” Karlach laughs, almost nervously, as she waves a hand through the air, “Please. No better time than the here and now, yeah? Plus, you’ve effectively proved yourself to be a certified badass from the get-go, soldier.” 

Soldier. A cute nickname, but Aruna’s brows crease together regardless. 

“Soldier?” she questions aloud, slowly sitting up and ignoring the nearly unbearable pain in her side. Nearly being the key word. 

She’d deal with it. She was the one who had idiotically fallen into the river, and she’d deal with the consequences. Maybe next time she won’t run across the slippery log. 

Karlach freezes up a bit, eyes darting around to the other companions worriedly, “I, uh, yeah. I don’t know. Like I said, that branch looked gnarly. Only a soldier could take a beating like that and still insist on walking it off.” 

Aruna has to bite back a simultaneous grin and tears. There’s something comforting about Karlach, something that makes Aruna want to cling to her side. To be the shadow rather than the leader for once. 

“You learn to walk it off when you’ve been as clumsy as I’ve been,” Aruna shrugs, turning to look at a still very pale Shadowheart, “Say, Wyll, could you help Shadowheart up? We don’t need any more of us falling into this water. It’s fucking freezing.” 

Wyll’s clearly startled, looking between the two women, “Shadowheart? What about you-”

“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.” 

They wanted a leader – they needed a leader. And Aruna had been assigned that role whether she liked it or not. As long as she held the title, the only person who would be getting injured due to her own stupidity would be herself. 

No more shrugging at the thought of them dying due to them choosing her as their leader, it seems. 

“Are you sure you can even walk?” Gale stammers, rising quickly when he notices Aruna beginning to lift herself out of the shallow water they were gathered in, “Please be careful-” 

“Stop hovering, Gale, and just help me up,” she insists, holding out a hand for him to grab. 

Shadowheart doesn’t even have the energy to argue as Wyll appears at her side, letting her lean some of her weight on him. 

Aruna’s guilt is far, far heavier than her armor now. 

“Shall we?” she mumbles, looking to the ground in shame, trying to hold most of her own weight even as Gale willingly offers his arm for her to cling onto. She only looks up to glance Karlach’s way, forcing another kind smile through all her pain, “You should join us, y’know. If you’ve got one of those worms in your head.” 

“I-” Karlach’s eyes shift to look off into the distance, back towards the path they had taken to find her, but clearly looking a bit beyond it, “I’d love to. I really would, but I’ve got some business I need to take care of. Some goons are tracking me and-”

“We can help,” Aruna offers before Karlach even asks such a thing of them. And she can imagine Astarion’s bristling, his sigh and roll of his eyes, his voice whispering of her bleeding heart, “Join us at camp, let us rest up a bit, and we can come back and send those assholes back to wherever they came from.” 

Electricity runs along the outskirts of Aruna’s mind, purple sparks coming to life as Gale grips onto her arm to steady her.

Just like that? He asks through the tadpole. You’re going to offer our help, just like that?

If it had been Astarion, the question would have been laced with judgment. 

But Aruna doesn’t find a hint of it in Gale’s voice, merely shock as he looks to her with wide eyes. She’d even dare to say that she saw admiration behind those shades of umber. 

Just like that, she confirms silently, looking patiently to Karlach for a response. She needs help. I want to help. 

Aruna has plenty wrong with her. She has a head full of holes, gaping wounds not visible to the others that haunt her every hour of every day. She has a mysterious letter in her pack, insisting that she saves one of their dear companions. She has daggers that she can hardly use, she has a worm in her head that has become the least of her worries, and she has a bleeding heart. 

She is a kind fool. And, all things considered, it’s probably the thing that is least wrong with her in this exact moment. 

She’s going to help Karlach. Just as she promised Lae’zel, just as she had promised Wyll. If there is nothing else she can do for this world, she can do that. 

Our fearless leader, indeed, Gale hums through the mental connection. In her peripherals, Aruna catches the glimpse of a soft yet proud smile. 

Your kind fool, more like it. 

Karlach is oblivious to the silent conversation, and finally secedes with a deep breath, “Ah, what the hell. Lead the way, soldier.” 

Aruna is becoming awfully fond of the nickname. 

—

They hear Astarion before they see him. 

“What in the Hells did you do to her?” 

His words are pure venom, and Aruna can feel the fear that strikes within Gale when he freezes up at her side. The chill from being soaked by the river had been seemingly only affecting Aruna, who’s teeth had chattered the entire way as they backtracked to where they’d originally found the dog. But she swears, as Astarion catches sight of them as he rises from the corpse of Scratch’s previous owner, a shiver runs up the wizard’s spine. 

“They didn’t do anything,” Aruna says. The stab wound still ached terribly, and breathing still wasn’t the easiest thing in the world, but she had no doubt she’d make it back to camp. She might end up collapsing, unable to move again until tomorrow, but she’d certainly make it back, “I was just a clumsy fool and fell into the river.” 

Aruna hadn’t realized just how much she missed Astarion during the days he’d avoided her until he’s right in front of her, eyes blazing and fangs nearly peaking out as he snarls at Gale, hands already reaching for his daggers. He may be a terrifying sight to everyone else, but not to her. His presence instantly soothes, leaving the shooting pain in her side to fade out of existence for just a moment. 

But she doesn’t have time to linger on the calming effect. 

The moment she catches sight of him unsheathing his weapons, she forces herself in front of Gale, albeit a bit wobbly. 

“Astarion,” she snaps, holding out a hand as the other instinctually clutches to her injured side. Not a smart idea, as it brings back the pain, “Put the daggers away. Now.” 

“I leave these fools to keep you alive for a few days, and suddenly, you nearly die – again,” Astarion snaps, stopping just shy of her palm, gaze shifting between herself and the cowering wizard, “I should have known bett-”

“You’re not my keeper,” she calmly reminds him, acutely aware of Shadowheart’s look that screams I told you so. The rogue is more furious than Aruna had witnessed in all their travels, nearly feral, “And I didn’t die. I survived. Gale saved me. If anything, you should be thanking him.” 

She isn’t quite sure why Astarion would be thanking Gale. Astarion wasn’t her keeper – he didn’t have some ridiculous letter telling him to keep Aruna alive, as far as she was aware. 

“Oh, my apologies,” he sneers, leveling a look to Gale, “Thank you so very much for keeping our precious leader alive, almighty wizard. What ever would we do without you doing the bare minimum?” 

Our precious leader. Through all the sarcasm dripping from Astarion’s words, those somehow feel sincere. 

But it might simply be the fact that now that he’s so close, all Aruna can feel is that lingering desperation clinging to him, all the fear sticking around like smoke in the air. His hands are twitching at his sides as they let go of the daggers, as though he might reach out for her any moment now. 

“Bare minimum?” Gale squeaks out from behind her, “I understand you feel awfully protective of Aruna, but-”

“She’s the reason any of us are even alive. She’s the only reason we’ve made it this far.”

Aruna pales, “I don’t think-”

“Is she the reason we’re all alive?” Shadowheart weakly questions, taking a step closer as she glares at Astarion, “Or is she the reason you’re alive? I’d reckon you’re only terrified of losing the one person in this group who will actually tolerate you, willingly, Astarion.” 

In an instant, Aruna loses all her patience. It’s only momentary, but she swears she sees red as her head whips towards the cleric, “Shadowheart.”

Her tone makes it clear she isn’t joking around – it’s a threat. Even through her chattering teeth, Aruna’s voice comes out strong and clear. It’s a warning for them all to tread extremely carefully with their next words. 

Some of Astarion’s anger leaves him, face softening as he chooses to only focus on Aruna. He glances over her stoic face, but eventually, his attention is grabbed to her bloodied side that she still grips. She watches as his pupils dilate and his nostrils flare immediately. 

“You’re bleeding.” 

Aruna is shocked it had taken him so long to notice. She’d assumed given his vampiric nature, he’d smell her blood instantaneously. 

“Yes,” she deadpans, pressing a little harder on the wound, wincing only a little. Her hand is already turning sticky with her ichor, “Like I said, I fell.” 

“And conveniently impaled yourself? Gods, the pain I felt, that’s-” Astarion cuts himself off, still staring in disbelief at the wound, “Let me see it.” 

“No.”

“Aruna-”

“Astarion,” she parrots back, leaving no room for discussion, “We need to just return to camp. I just need to rest. I’m fine, we’re all fine. As long as you all stop trying to bite each other’s heads off, at least.” 

With each word, her voice is becoming more breathy, increasingly aware of the depths of her wounds yet. Shadowheart may have healed her enough to guarantee she won’t drop dead, but there’s certainly still a chance for her to pass out if they don’t get a move on. 

Surprisingly, Astarion only nods at that, finally looking back up to her eyes as he takes a step forward. His hands reach out, and she can see them shaking. 

It’s probably just from the blood. It’s been days since he last fed, that Aruna is aware of, and the comedown had no doubt been more intense considering he’d just had his first taste of a thinking creature’s blood. 

“I can walk,” she insists when she realizes he’s offering to take over from Gale as her crutch.

“You can hardly stand.” 

“I can walk.” 

This latest memory returned more than just knowledge to Aruna. Something more had been returned to her – a spark of fire that hadn’t been there before now rests in her chest, a flicker of who she once was. Headstrong, stubborn, determined. She feels less like a poor wandering soul. She’s more sure, and more staunchly independent, than before. 

Slowly but surely, the puzzle that is herself is coming back to Aruna. She feels like a person now, not a mere ghost. 

A person, a leader, someone who can hold her own. The last thing she wants to do is cling desperately to anybody else, to accept any help that might portray her as weak. Because she wasn’t – she couldn’t be – if she had to lead these people. And certainly not if she kept getting into these near-death experiences. 

“Gods, you’re stubborn,” Astarion grumbles. It’s a slow switch, but she notices it then; the more Astarion spoke directly to her, the softer he grew. He didn’t offer her the same ferocity that he’d thrown at the others. Shadowheart’s earlier observations are painfully loud in her mind as she realizes it. 

His hands drop, but he’s no less stiff as he moves to the side, letting her begin to walk, to lead them all further down the path. 

She’s quick to notice the way he returns to his rightful place at her side. 

Her shadow. For better or for worse, it seems.

taglist: @emmaisgonnacry @writinginthetwilight @moonmunson @generalstephkenobi @notthisagainpls @chaoticbardlady99 @animated-unicorn

if you'd like to join the taglist, simply let me know <3

#ghost's stories #astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion x tav #astarion x oc #astarion fanfiction #astarion fanfic #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 fic #bg3 fanfiction #the moon will sing #overprotective astarion to the point of it being ooc my beloved

[princessofmerchants]

"Nesta began."

Nesta Week 2024 ~ Day 2: Metamorphosis ~ @nestaarcheronweek

{a short meta about ACOSF Ch. 50 meant to capture a little of my thinking about the most significant metamorphosis Nesta undergoes in her story}

My experience of reading ACOSF Ch. 50 is one of metamorphosis: both as a reader because I am transformed every time I read it, and in seeing Nesta undergo the most essential, vital transformation of her life so far, during the span of this scene.

It isn't caused by magic, or trauma, or things happening to her in the plot.

Instead, it's the transformation from someone who does not believe themselves to be worthy of love, into someone with the bravery to try to believe they are.

Cassian drew the Illyrian blade from down his back. It gleamed with moonlight as he extended it to her hilt-first. “Take it.” Blinking, eyes still puffy with tears, she did. The blade dipped as she wrapped her hands around it, as if she didn’t expect its weight after so long with the wooden practice swords. Cassian stepped back. Then said, “Show me the eight-pointed star.” She studied the blade, then swallowed. Her features were open, fearful but so trusting that he nearly went to his knees. He nodded toward the blade. “Show me, Nesta.” Whatever she sought in his face, she found it. She widened her stance, bracing her feet on the stones. Cassian held his breath as she took up the first position. Nesta lifted the sword and executed a perfect arcing slash. Her weight shifted to her legs just as she flipped the blade, leading with the hilt, and brought up her arm against an invisible blow. Another shift and the sword swept down, a brutal slash that would have sliced an opponent in half. Each slice was perfect. Like that eight-pointed star was stamped on her very heart. The sword was an extension of her arm, a part of her as much as her hair or breath. Every movement bloomed with purpose and precision. In the moonlight, before the silvered lake, she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Nesta finished the eighth maneuver, and returned the sword to center. The light in her eyes shone brighter than the moon overhead. Such light, and clarity, that he could only whisper, “Again.” With a soft smile that Cassian had never seen before, standing on the moon-washed shores of the lake, Nesta began.

This beautiful, vulnerable, powerful moment at the end of ACOSF Ch. 50 comes after the harrowing experience of Nesta finally speaking aloud to her trusted person what she feels about herself.

And of course—I say this all the time—SJM is a romance writer, which means Nesta's trusted person, Cassian, is who she finally cracks herself wide open with. I believe Nesta would not have been capable of finally voicing these things if not for the trust and care that had grown between her and Cassian, as both friends and lovers, leading up to this scene.

And his response to what she says about herself helps her to see light and hope again by persistently reframing her own jagged (mis)understanding of herself and her capability as instead an experience that can be honored as difficult, then walked through to a better, more light-filled existence on the other side:

"What you feel, this guilt and pain and self-loathing—you will get through it. But only if you are willing to fight. Only if you are willing to face it, and embrace it, and walk through it, to emerge on the other side of it. And maybe you will still feel that tinge of pain, but there is another side. A better side.” She pulled back from his chest then. Found his gaze lined with silver. “I don’t know how to get there. I don’t think I’m capable of it.” His eyes glimmered with pain for her. “You are. I’ve seen it—I’ve seen what you can do when you are willing to fight for the people you love. Why not apply that same bravery and loyalty to yourself?"

And:

“But I still don’t know how to fix myself.” “There’s nothing broken to be fixed,” he said fiercely. “You are helping yourself. Healing the parts of you that hurt too much—and perhaps hurt others, too.”

(I've said this about other scenes in ACOSF too, but I believe in my bones, my heart, and my soul, that this is written by someone (SJM) who has said these very same things to her own person (Josh). I have in fact said these things to my person - "I don't think I'm capable of it" was torn right from my own mouth and life. This is spot on for accuracy about what this kind of breaking open is like for someone who does not believe they are worthy of love where the person who loves them then debunks that falsehood in just the ways Cassian does here. I've said it before and I'll say it again; It's so powerful to see my lived experience on the page like this, y'all.)

There is security on the shores of the lake for Nesta, which is just the set of delicate circumstances needed to allow what we see at the very end of the chapter to blossom:

With a soft smile that Cassian had never seen before, standing on the moon-washed shores of the lake, Nesta began.

The last stretch of this chapter is in Cassian's pov. I love that it is, because the love he feels for her, the depth it expands to in response to seeing her trust, and try, and become who she is meant to be—not a magical queen, but a person who knows they are loved and is beginning to also know they deserve to be—saturates everything about this moment and scene beside the lake.

#nestaweek2024 #nesta archeron #cassian #nessian #hike through the sleeping mountains #acosf #a court of silver flames #acosf reread post hofas #metamorphosis #getting personal #sarah j maas #pro nesta #pro cassian #pro nessian

[missacidburn928s-heathenhideaway]

I got all these issues. Will you be my prescription?

Bucky Barnes x POC!Reader

Wordcount: 4462

Summary:

A fight about your safety ensues when pictures of the two of you together get leaked by a fellow agent and former one night stand. He's livid that your relationship is exposed to the world and now could be used against him. You could care less who knows about your relationship. You've been together over a year, you knew what dating the former Winter Soldier brought with it. No, you're pissed that some bitch, who doesn't even count as an ex, is trying to ruin the best thing to happen to you.

Warnings:

Angst with a Happy Ending, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Feels, Some Humor, Protective Bucky Barnes, Bucky Barnes's Metal Arm, Steve Rogers Is a Good Bro, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, Song Lyrics, Inspired by Music, Not Canon Compliant, Oral Sex, Vaginal Sex, P In V Sex

Notes:

Hello Heathens! This oneshot came out of nowhere one evening when I was listening to music on my phone while working on another fic. A cover of the song "Issues" (originally performed by Julia Michaels) came on and my mind was flooded with this idea and story that I need to flesh out. I have no control of my muse. I just write the stories she tells me to. HAPPY READING! Lyrics for the song Issues by Cameron Bedell will be in bold. ( Here's a link for you to check out the song ) Thoughts in italic.

Banner by @cafekitsune Divider by @firefly-graphics

You're trying to get him to understand that the real problem is the agent and not the exposure. Yes you now have to be more careful when you're somewhere without him. But it's not much different than what you were already doing.

"If she leaked us being together what makes you think she wouldn't leak other more sensitive information. Hell, she already could have!" You argue, trying to get him to see the whole picture.

"I don't give a fuck about some jealous drunken hook up who still feels jaded. I never wanted you in danger. That's why it was so important to keep us hidden." He snaps back.

Your emotions finally get the best of you. "I never WANTED to be hidden James! I went along with it because it was something you needed that made you feel secure. One less reason I might leave." 

You shake your head as the tears begin to well in your eyes. "We're over a year in. I thought we'd be out to more than just people with enough clearance to be made aware. Makes me feel like your dirty little secret. I don't want to be that forever."

"Keeping your attachment to me hidden keeps you safe. What about that dont you understand?" He's so lost in his fear that he can't see things clearly.

"No. It leaves me vulnerable and easier to take with no one noticing because they're unaware of my relationship to the deadliest man I know." You calmly state. That seems to get his attention. "How can anyone fear the repercussions of even trying to get close to me like that without knowing who to be afraid of?" 

He just stands there. Tension radiating off his body. 

You let out an exasperated sigh and start walking to your door. "I think you need to go Bucky. I can't do this with you right now. You're so lost in your anger and fear that you're not thinking clearly. And I'm just plain pissed off. I don't want either of us to say something we regret later."

A look of shock crosses his face. "Doll, you can't be serious? We just got exposed. You're not safe."

"No one knows where I live, yet."

"Key word, yet."

"James." You reach for the knob. "Please just give me some time alone. I know where to find you when I'm ready. We both need to think about things from all angles."

He walks up to you and pins you to the door with a soul crushing kiss. Putting all of his fear and love into that one small gesture. He pulls away and allows you to open the door. Just as he crosses the threshold he turns his head your way. "This is far from over, doll. Don't keep me waiting too long."

You spend the next couple of days working through your thoughts with your guitar. Letting the music take you where you need to be. Mending the frayed edges and soothing the aches.

Through your musical therapy a song develops. Something that you think might help ease things between the two of you. Because, let's face it, you miss your man something fierce.

Every imperfect piece of him. Responding to his texts just to let him know you’re safe and alive, just isn't going to cut it anymore. Someone has to yield first, and it looks like this time around, it’s going to have to be you.

Mind made up on what you are going to do, you decide to give Steve a call.

It rings three times before he picks up. “Rogers.”

“Hey Stevie. How’s he holding up?” You waste no time asking what you so desperately want to know.

“Hey, Dollface.” He sighs. “‘Fraid to say, he’s not doing too great. Seems his already short fuse has shortened significantly. Had to take him off the training roster for the recruits because too many couldn't keep up with his demands or got injured.”

“Shit.” You shake your head even though you know he can't see it. “I was hoping he had calmed down some by now. I’m sorry Steve. I didn’t think he'd still be affected this much.”

“It’s not your fault. You know how overprotective he is in general. Add a threat, from the inside at that, and he goes nuclear.” He excuses.

“Well, I think I may have a solution to our problems.” You admit. “If not at least a band-aid for the time being. I’m going to need you and Sam’s help though. If you're willing of course.”

“I’m all ears. Want me to grab Sam so you don't have to explain it twice?”

“That would be great actually. I’d appreciate not having to spend more energy than I need too.”

“Alright. Hang on a sec.” You hear shuffling, followed by a door opening. Then the tell tale sound of a knock and a muffled voice before a door opens once more. “Hey Sam. Mind if I come in? I’ve got Buck’s best girl on the phone and she has something she wants to go over with us.”

“No problem man. Come on in.” Sam replies.

Once safely behind Sam’s door he places the phone on speaker. “Okay, doll. Tell us your plan.”

“It’s pretty simple really. I’ve used my time alone to reflect and process things the best way I know how. With my guitar.” You lightly chuckle. “Anyway. Long story short, I wrote something for James and I want to surprise him by performing it in front of you all.”

“All of us?” Sam asks.

“Well, just the Avengers. A small little private concert type of thing. Though I'll only be singing the one song halfway through. My friend has a great band that I think you all would love. If you can get Tony to hire them for the night to do a private show for you guys, I can sneak my performance in.”

“So Bucky will know about the private show but not that you're a part of it?” Steve questions for clarification.

“Yup.” You pop the ‘P’ for emphasis. “Think you can sway Tony to make this happen?”

“Seeing as how this should improve Bucky’s temperament and save us doing extra recruit rotations and paperwork. I don't see Tony being a problem. Text us when you know if your friend's band can do it and we’ll take it from there.” You can hear the relief in Steve’s voice over your plan.

“Thank you guys. I owe you big time.” You declare.

“Just help us get the normal grumpy old man back. That’s all we ask.” Sam imparts.

“That’s the plan.”

Tonight’s the night. You rub your hands anxiously against your thighs as the town car Tony sent for you cruises leisurely down the long Compound driveway. You surpass the front roundabout and make your way around to the back, near the private entrance and garage the Avengers use.

You text your friend Marco, the lead singer of Bow & Dagger, that you’ve arrived and to send someone out to get you. Of course your ex Chase, the bassist, is the one to greet you. He leans his body against the door frame, a smirk plastered across his face, as he scans your body from the bottom up. “Looking good Firefly.”

You roll your eyes at the use of your old nickname. “Still using that outdated moniker Chase?” 

He quirks a brow at you. “You’ll always be my firefly. Maybe even more so now that you’ve gotten away. I’ll forever be chasing your light.”

You can't help but laugh at him. “Does that lyrical prose still work on the female population nowadays?”

“I’ve had no complaints.” He shrugs. “It used to work on you just fine if I remember correctly. Hell you used to toss it right back at me.”

“The blessed naivety of youth. Thank the Goddess that I grew up and my priorities shifted. I’m a more well rounded individual now. Less in search of useless validation.”

“Ouch.” He clutches his chest. “Still got those talons, I see.”

“Never leave home with them.” You wink at him. “You gonna let me in so you can make that paycheck I’m sure is well above your normal fee, or stand there all night?”

“Get in here smartass before Marco lays in to me for wasting time.” He moves aside.

You walk into the pseudo green room and are immediately smothered in a bear hug. “Hiya Stu. I’m happy to see you too.” You say into his barreled chest. “Mind letting up a bit. I kinda need to feel my fingers in order to play.”

He quickly lets go, only to place his hands on your shoulders and stare at you with a dopey smile across his face. “I’m sorry girlie. I’m just so happy to see ya. It’s been too long.”

“It has. I’m sorry ‘bout that.” You wince. “Life kind of got away from me. You know how it goes.”

“I’d say all is forgiven, seeing as you booked us this sweet gig.” Marco butts in, scooping you up in a hug himself. 

“Fuck yeah! I finally get to shoot my shot with the Black Widow.” Stu exclaims.

“It’s the least I could do. You guys have no idea how much you're helping me out here.”  You walk over to the couch and place your travel case down.

“What exactly are we helping you with anyway?” Chase inquires.

“Some Rom-Com grand gesture type shit” You smugly state.

“No shit?” Stu asks.

“I speak only the truth.” 

“You gonna tell us who the unlucky schmuck is?” Chase snipes.

“With that attitude, you’re just going to have to wait and see.” You give him a smile to rival the Cheshire Cat’s. “The look on your face is going to be fucking priceless. I can’t wait.”

Before he can respond with some dickish comment, there’s a knock on the door, followed quickly by Tony and Steve entering the room.

Steve makes his way over to you. “Hey Dollface. You ready to get this show on the road?”

“I’m all set if these knuckleheads are ready to head on out there.” You turn towards the boys. “Have you guys met your benefactor for tonight's little private concert?”

“Negatory little lady.” Stu speaks up first, walking over to Tony. “Howdy Mr. Stark. The name’s Stu. Bow and Dagger’s drummer and loveable goofball. That’s Chase. Bassist and resident fuckboy. And the merose looking fucker over there is Marco our lead guitar and vocals.”

“That suits you.” Tony imparts. “You certainly give off drummer vibes. Lots of energy. Any questions on how this is gonna work?” 

“I wouldn't mind a breakdown.” You pipe up.

"Here's how it's going to go." Steve grabs everyone's attention with his Captain voice. "We're going to gather the team in the common room where Sam and I set up a stage earlier. Tony is going to introduce the band. You'll play 3 songs and announce your taking a 5 min smoke break. That's when Dollface here is going to make her way on stage and do her thing." 

He smiles over at you. "Hopefully if all goes well you guys will finish your set and then you're welcome to stay for dinner and hang out."

"Solid plan golden boy. You come up with that all on your own." You joke.

"Always with the smart quips. I'll remember that. Now let's get moving before the team gets restless and wanders off."

So far the evening was flowing seamlessly. As Bow & Dagger played the last notes on your third song, your nerves decided to make themselves known. You watched them announce their break and leave the stage. 

Before you could sabotage yourself, you made your way onto the tiny stage and turned to the group of mostly stunned superheroes. “Hey guys. I hope you don’t mind me interrupting. I have some things I need to get off my chest and thought I might provide some intermission entertainment in the process.”

You roam the space for Bucky and lock eyes with his Steel blues, seated on the sofa next to Steve. Taking a deep breath, your fingers begin to strum the opening chords, the team looking on in curiosity over what may come out of your mouth.

Sustaining eye contact you let the lyrics flow out of you as if there is no one else in the room.  

Mmm mm mm I'm jealous I'm overzealous When I'm down I get real down When I'm high, I don't come down I get angry Baby, believe me I could love you just like that And I could leave you just this fast

You take in his demeanor, stock still but engaged nonetheless.  

But you don't Judge me 'Cause if you did, baby I would judge you too No, you don't judge me 'Cause if you did, baby I would judge you too

The only thought in your head is Here goes nothing, as you put your whole heart into the chorus.

'Cause I got issues But you got 'em too So give 'em all to me And I'll give mine to you Bask in the glory Of all our problems 'Cause we got the kind of love It takes to solve 'em Yeah, I got issues And one of them is how bad I need you

You breathe a little easier when you notice him start to soften. Just absorbing the piece of your soul you're sharing with everyone. 

You do shit on purpose You get mad and you break things Feel bad, try to fix things But you're perfect Poorly wired circuit And got hands like an ocean Push you out Pull you back in

A subtle smile crosses his face at the truth in your words. The picture of him that many do not get to see. You really get into it as you run through the bridge and chorus one more time. Now it’s time to bring it home and woo your man.

Ooohhh, Need you OOOOOOH AHHHH I got issues You got 'em too So give 'em all to me And I'll give mine to you Bask in the glory Of all our problems 'Cause we got the kind of love It takes to solve 'em Yeah, I got issues And one of them is how bad I need you Ooh hoo hoo I got issues  One of them is how bad I need yoou Issues And one of them is how bad I need you

You could hear a pin drop in the room as Bucky rises from his seat and makes his way over to the stage. You swallow and try to get your breathing under control as you have no idea what is going to happen. 

Before you know it, he’s standing in front of you, broad chest heaving. He brings his hands up and cups your face before pulling you into an earth shattering kiss.

You forget that you have an audience until the sound of their cheers and clapping reaches your ears. You think you not only hear but see the muted flash of a camera through your closed lids.

You come up for air to see Bucky with the most lovesick expression on his face. “You did all that for me?” 

You nod your head. “Figured it was the best way to get you to listen and understand.”

“Fuck I love you.”

“Love you too James.”

Sam rushes over to the stage. “Man, I live streamed the whole thing. The people are going crazy over ya’ll.”

“You did what?!” You both blurt out.

“I streamed it. The world already knows about you. Might as well milk it. No need to thank me, damn.”

Bucky moves to jump off the stage and rush Sam. You barely catch him in time. “Hey. Don't let him get to you okay. You know how much he loves to rile you up.”

“Sorry, doll. He’s just such a douchebag sometimes. We were having a moment.” He apologizes, running his thumb along your bottom lip.

“It’s fine.” You nip at the flesh as it passes over once more. “What I really want to know is if performing the song in front of everyone was okay? I just wanted you to hear me out and understand my side of things. I didn't want to embarrass you or anything.”

“Doll. Stop rambling.” You shut your mouth. “I loved it. Honestly I liked that they got to see how much you feel for me.”

You beam up at him. “Good.”

“Now I have some displays of affection I need to show you myself. Come on babygirl.” He pulls you off stage and heads towards the hallway that connects with his, Steve and Sam’s wing of the compound.

You’re pulled inside Bucky’s room, tripping over your sneakers as he hurriedly maneuvers you through his space. “James, slow down. I’m gonna eat shit if you keep it up.”

He stops in front of the bed, turning toward you. “Shut up.” He grabs your waist and tosses you down on to the mattress, climbing on and caging you in with his massive frame. “You’ve used that mouth enough tonight. Now it’s my turn.” 

With no time to catch your breath, he renders you incapable of responding by capturing your lips with his own. Kissing life back into your body, as your tongues dance a tango only you know. 

He takes his time as his hands roam your curves. Sneaking his cool metal digits under your shirt, leaving goosebumps in their wake. He begins to remove your shirt, placing his flesh hand  underneath your lower back as he slowly lifts your torso to pull your shirt over your head. You raise your arms in aid, grazing your fingertips across the stubble along his jaw when he tosses your shirt aside.

He trails his hands down your flesh until he reaches the waistband of your jeans. With a quick snap of his vibranium fingers your button is undone, your zipper quickly following suit. He starts to slide the denim down, tapping your hip to get you to raise them so that he can remove them entirely.

Leaning back on his haunches, he grabs the back of his shirt with his flesh hand and pulls it off. His lust blown blue eyes focused on you draped over his bed sheets.  “So fucking beautiful.” He runs his hands up your legs, gripping the waistband of your panties when he reaches your hips and takes his time removing them from your body. 

“Take your bra off for me, babygirl.” You lean up on your elbows, reach behind your back and unclasp the garment, letting it fall away from you body. 

Leaning forward, he ghosts kisses along all of your exposed skin. Mapping out a trail of pleasure and gooseflesh. Teasing first one and then the other nipple with his tongue, ending each with a deep suction. 

The slow paced teasing continues, driving your need for him higher. He stops his trek at your mound, hot breath blowing puffs of air on the cooling slick leaking from your folds. “So beautiful and all mine.” He runs a cool metal finger along your drenched lips. He ensnares you in his gaze. “That’s right, isn't it, babygir? This pretty little pussy is mine to do with as I please?”

“Yes. All of this is yours.” You pant out. Delirious for him to do something more than tease.

“Damn right it is.” He runs a stripe from taint to clit with his skillful tongue. Circling your sensitive little bundle nerves, pulling a moan out of your throat. Having had enough of taking his time slowly torturing you he thrusts his tongue inside your aching center. The thick muscle massaging your silken walls, giving them something to finally clamp on to. 

“Mmm. James. Fuck. Your tongue feels so good baby.” Your hands anchor themselves in his hair, just enjoying the ride. But that’s not enough for him. He wants you desperate and begging before he gives in and makes you come apart on his cock.

He pulls his tongue out, swirling it along your folds, seeking out every drop of your essence. Moving the appendage upward to lightly circle figure eight patterns on your clit, bringing you right to the edge. So close to falling over that cliff into utter bliss before he pulls away.

“No! Why’d you stop? I was so close.” You sit up, reaching out for his face, wanting to drag him back to your pulsing center.

He scoots back off the bed. “The first time you come after sending me away and keeping your distance, is going to be while my cock is deep inside you.” He unbuckles his belt, drawing your eyes down to his hands working on divesting himself of the last of his garments.

You're hypnotized by his movements. Mouth watering as you wait for his thickness to spring free from its confines. Time seems to stand still as his pants drop to the floor. “You went commando.” You whisper out, licking your suddenly dry lips.  

“Wonderful coincidence. I wasn't expecting to see you tonight and Steve came pounding on my door right as I got out the shower to tell me I had to come be a part of the festivities. I just threw on the closest clothes.” He shrugged, wrapping his metal fist around his length, giving himself a few pumps as he drank you in with a predatory gaze.

“Lay back down, babygirl.” He husks out. The command sends a fresh wave of slickness to your core, anticipating what’s to come, as you slowly lie back.

“Spread those luscious thighs for me, doll. Present me with my perfect little pussy.” He grunts out as he continues to stroke himself, a bead of precome precariously close to dropping from the tip as he places a knee down on the bed.

You open your legs wide enough to show off your glistening folds. Following his command, but holding back just enough to make him growl and push your thighs open the rest of the way. 

“You really wanna play with me right now, babygirl? After keeping this body away from me for days?” He rubs his cock between your cleft, tip bumping against your engorged and still so sensitive clit.

You squirm and whimper, just wanting him to be inside of you already. That halted orgasm, inching its way back to the surface every time his hot length grazes your bundle of nerves. 

“I’m sorry, James. Please. Need you inside me.” You plead. “It’s been too long since you filled me up.”

“You’re sorry huh?” You quickly nod your head. “Gonna let me wreck this pussy? Ruin you for anyone else? Milk me dry like the cumdrunk little slut that you are?”

“Yes. Yes. Please.” You beg, just wanting him to finally take you, reclaim you as his own.

“As you wish, babygirl.” He slams forward to the hilt, splitting you open with his girth.

He doesn't even give you a moment to get reacquainted with the size of him deep inside you. He just pulls back and thrusts in harder. Setting up a pace that just makes your brain go fuzzy and every nerve-ending sings in pleasure.

“Fuuuck. Look at you doll.” He grunts out. “Already cock drunk and I’ve barely gotten started. Pussy’s gripping me so tight baby. She doesn't want to let me go.”

Your mind can't function enough to produce anything other than moans, whimpers and wails of pleasure. You’re flying a serotonin high you are not ready to come down from yet. The coil in your core tightening as you dance closer and closer to the knife's edge of orgasm. Waiting for the moment when you dive off the edge into ecstasy.

Almost as if sensing that your climax is impending, Bucky picks up the pace, swiveling his hips and grinding his pelvis down on your clit for added stimulation. “Come on, baby. Come for me, pretty girl. I can feel your walls quivering around me. Give in. Fall apart on my cock. Show me how good I make you feel.”

That’s it. That’s all you need to lose yourself and let go completely. Surrendering to the euphoric bliss, screaming out for the whole compound to hear.

A rainbow of stars detonate behind your eyes as you writhe beneath him, back arching off the mattress before you go limp, laying in a state of bonelessness.

“Don’t pass out on me now doll. I’m so close. Little pussy is squeezin’ me so tight.” His pumps become erratic as he chases his own high. “Don’t you want me to fill  you up? Have me leaking out of you for days?”

You just nod and whisper out. “Please. Full.” Not able to formulate more than two words in your current state.

It was all the validation that he needed to hear to stop holding back and release the days worth of his seed into your waiting womb. Painting the walls white with rope after rope of his spend. 

It felt like it went on forever with how much he was pouring into you, until his dick stopped twitching and he collapsed on your chest. Catching his breath and covering your face in sweet kisses as you both come back down to earth.

You stayed locked together, your pussy warming his cock, as you both let your fingertips roam along the other's skin. Allowing yourselves time to just revel in the moment of the new direction your relationship is heading.

"You sure you're okay with the world knowing about us, doll? You’re not afraid that you'll no longer be safe?" He asks into your neck. 

"Like I said before, I feel no less safe than I did before, James.” You tell him with conviction. ”Plus now, I get to rub it in everyone's face that the White Wolf is all mine.” You grin like the cat that got the cream. “You're truly stuck with me now, Bucky."

He chuckles. "I wouldn't have it any other way." He places a soft kiss on your lips.

Just as the kiss deepens and you start the journey towards round two, there’s a knock at the door, followed by Sam’s muffled voice. "You guys done making up yet? Steve wont let us eat until you guys get back out here."

You both can’t help but laugh. "Tell Stevie we'll be right out but we're not staying long. I've got time to make up for."

“TMI man! A simple ‘Be right out’ would have been enough, Buck.” Sam scoffs as we walks back to the common area.

“Come on, doll. Let’s get dressed before Stevie comes looking for us next.”

If you made it to the end, THANK YOU! If you liked it please feel free to let me know (but it's not required); and if you didn't, that's okay too, I still thank you for even giving it a chance.

#poc reader #avengers smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes

[chloecherrysip]

We're going to save your brother.

#mario movie #mario movie spoilers #super mario bros #super mario bros movie #super mario bros movie spoilers #princess peach #mareach #cherrysip edits #I FEEL LIKE THIS MOMENT DID NOT GET THE ATTENTION AND APPRECIATION IT DESERVED ON HERE #man i could write you an essay about this #i do think that the 'i'm not afraid! i'll do anything for my brother' line actually ISN'T said during this scene - it's probably earlier #but that this line IS in the right place (peach's mouth movements match) #which means that scene is going to break me because it just seems like a very vulnerable sweet moment between them #where peach and mario get to talk about the situation they're in and their fears and how big the stakes are for both of them #peach fighting to protect her kingdom and her subjects - the immense pressure on her to stop bowser because of her role as a leader #and mario desperately trying to save his brother - not knowing if luigi is ok or not and not being able to keep him safe is so painful #i think that's why mario doesn't have his hat on - the adventure is starting to weigh on him and he opens up to peach for the first time #about him and luigi and their closeness and how he CAN'T lose his brother he CAN'T let him down when he needs him more than ever #and peach reassures him and it means the world. even in this quick clip there's something a little sad about his face #but also there's relief and gratefulness to her for saying that. they're the absolute sweetest :) :) :) #i could be off base but that really does seem like the vibe of this scene from what we've seen and i am ALL ABOUT IT

[sysig]

Blind side (Patreon)

#Doodles #UT #Handplates #Sans #Papyrus #Gaster #Sans closing his good eye every once in a while and keeping his blind eye open - obviously he does so in-game as well so it's a style-match #It's just interesting in the context of him being textually-confirmed blind in Handplates hehe #There's a level of vulnerability there! Not more than closing both eyes around someone - and potentially also distrust! #''I'm baring myself blind right now but /you/ don't need to know that'' - it suits him ♪ #Especially when he does it around Papyrus! Because obviously Papyrus knows about his partial blindness #But when he's trying to be duplicitous - the way he looks at him sidelong with his blind eye when he's trying to lie unsuccessfully ugh <3 #And again-again it being about how much he trusts Papyrus! That he can be a little lazy or spacey and Papyrus will help him! #Also something about his entire right side being impaired - pawing around with his plated hand for something he can't see on that side #The dynamics! Internal and external! Very good like them lots #And then there's Gaster lol ♪ Throw him into the mix I'm sure it won't make a mess at all haha #I guess he's visiting? Just spacing out - he and Sans have a lot on their minds - separately haha #I do love how Sans pushes Gaster to be kind to Papyrus - very deservedly! He wants Papyrus to be happy of course #And he's obviously still angry with Gaster a lot but how might that present itself when Papyrus is Papyrus at Gaster hehe #Even just in that small jokey way of ''you tryin' to step on my turf?'' hehehe #Especially since the comparison wouldn't even come up if he had two functioning eyes hm?? Right Gaster???? Lol #Speaking of that scene and Sans' partial blindness tho ughhughuhg <3 <3 The fact that Sans stands with Gaster to his blind side #It's the vulnerability/distaste/confidence of it all! He's grown up so much it's all right there in how he holds himself #That he either trusts Gaster enough not to attack him - starting to believe him - or that he has enough faith in himself to protect himself #And only looking at him with his peripherals unless he looks directly at him hghhhgh I am Normal about shot composition I swear lol #Also I like how that last panel turned out lol - Sans just appears at the bottom of the steps like how's it going. care to gtfo thx

[bericas]

josé olivarez / yves olade (alt. version) / cab calloway / oscar romero

#twedit #sceoedit #tw #sceo #HI TEAM. I FEEL CRAZY #scott mccall #theo raeken #so its the first scene with scott and theo. scott recognizes theo but doesn't instantly trust him. scott is coming off of s4 #he needs people to be good because he knows he can be bad. there has to be redemption because he needs to be redeemed #his own goodness doesn't feel inherent and so believing in the good of others is how he can believe in himself #he worries love is violence. he still can't trust theo on sight. #he trusts him by that scene in 510 where he says his friends have left him and theo says he can get them back for him. #theo is why he has lost his friends. theo has made this happen. theo has made scott love him so he can best hurt him. love is violence #and then the hug which breaks scott open. the skepticism on his face vs the way he clings to theo with his chin pressed into his shoulder #face half hidden in the bulk of theo. the way his chin falls onto theo's shoulders the same way when theo impales him #the way theo nestles closes in both gifs. the way both are acts of violence in different ways. #so we have the doubt and the trust in the first set and the act that finally made scott fully trust theo #and the act that fully destroyed that trust in the middle #in the last pair we have theo back in the position where he needs scott to trust him. scott wants to. the slow rebuild of their trust #bc now theo is vulnerable and scott cannot help himself! he can't. but he still tries. there's only love and violence #and then the scene that shows scott is willing to trust him again. theo at scott's back with claws raised. #theo standing still instead of walking toward or walking away. #scott looks to theo and theo looks away. but he raises his claws for scott. the violence we must do #the end is the real beginning #(also with the yves olade quote that's not the one in the book but it is a version circulating! and it worked for this!! so!!!!)

[merakiui]

Idk how to describe/explain it but I am a firm believer that sex with Cater would be fun. It would a little (a lot) playful and scandalous. There would be a lot of try not to get caught with him especially in public settings.

YES!!! Sex with Cater is always so fun because he's down to try anything at least once with you, so you'll have a lot of enjoyable times in and out of the bedroom. He's also just someone you can laugh with while having sex. Like maybe the both of you said some really cringe dirty talk, but you just go with it because it's silly and you're having a good time and maybe you're giggling like schoolgirls and the mood may have shifted, but it's fun.

Cater is also so fun to have sex with because he's always so casual and playful, so when he does get serious or more emotional during sex it throws you through a loop. One minute your relationship was defined by quickies and booty calls and emotionless intimacy, but now it's thinking about the future, alluding to marriage, wondering about commitment! I like to think Cater has a fear of commitment because he's so used to moving all the time, never staying in one place for long, which is why he might prefer a fwb relationship with you over a deeper connection. But then he falls in love and suddenly he's :O !!!! Suddenly sex has a whole new meaning, and suddenly filthy words exchanged under the covers are seasoned with romantic undertones hehe.

#twisted chit chat #n/sfw #i love cater T_T #omg listening to 2000s and 2010s pop music with him while doing makeovers!!!! #he would go on shopping dates with you and the both of you would have fun trying on outfits #and then you fuck each other in the changing room lol #i like to think he playfully quotes mean girls #if he does not say 'get in loser we're going shopping' every time before you get into his car then there is just no point </3 #but fun times aside i also like the idea of cater slowly being comfortable with opening up to you and being more emotionally vulnerable #you're one of the few he has a genuinely deep bond with and that's so important to him #because while he is a social butterfly who knows everyone #he doesn't truly *know* them #and they don't truly *know* him either #AAAAAA CATER I LOVE YOU SO MUCH <3

[cosmic-kaden]

Me seeing Paterson and my inner monologue is like: sweet boi, my handsome poetic man~ my sunshine on the rainiest days, my reason to smile, my beautiful baby, light of my life, the most perfect man ever~ I love you so much!

Me seeing Flip and my inner monologue is like: Stand six feet away from me or I'm going to go fucking feral. /Smittenly God you're Infuriating /affectionate. Stupid handsome bastard- you're not a bastard, you're good.. whatever listen, I'll fucking bite you. This is dumb! You're dumb! Jerkbutt /Lovingly I fucking love you so god damn much- GODS embarassing! /lh

So if people think my ships are the same I can assure you....you're wrong :) lmao

#I DUNNO WHY FLIP SETS OFF MY FIGHT OR FLIGHT LMFAO probably because if I fully admitted and went full sweetheart on him I'd NEVER live it #down. we're the couple that banters thats light hearted and fun. I'm scared to be 'deep' with him IDK WE'RE WORKING ON IT LOL #When it comes to my ship with him I think we're both afraid to open up. I mean at first oir relationship was all surface layer then after #the whole 'dirty little secret' ordeal we realize we actually might be deeply in love with each other and we don't know how to bring it up #so we banter with each other and stuff. we'll one day admit to each other that we feel more than we let on...one day sosnsosjsod #my ship with him? YEAH ITS THAT DEEP lol #surpriseeeeeeee 🎉 #it comes in threes #with Paterson its sweet from the get go and we fall fast for eachother and talking to him is as easy as breathing because hes vulnerable #with me from the start and I can easily open up to him aodndodnoddjd SO YEAH COMPLETELY DIFFERENT SHIPS LOL #chaos in the mundane

[lisbonsteresa]

i'm going to SCREAM

#tm #you don't get how UNHINGED this makes me it's SO #like he's been out all day trying to track down this missing kid (as part of her case too; to give her another avenue against volker) #and they have their little catch up and at first he's concerned (she's been at this all day and now into the night too #and he GETS it - in a way maybe other people wouldn't - but he doesn't want her to burn herself out; he wants her to be careful #maybe he's about to tell her a version of 'get some sleep') #but then she talks about amanda and it makes me NUTS because she does NOT ask for his help #she doesn't ask him to stay; to read the files with her; to 'burn the midnight oil' with her #she's just...stating her case; explaining why this means so much to her; and he listens; he takes it in; and he makes the choice to help #to sit in this with her and to help her work through it #and i just -- neither of them will ask the other for help (yes i know she did at the end of the last episode the context is different ok) #but they're both so quietly (and sometimes not so quietly) desperate to help each other it makes me sick #it's so interesting to see how they deal with this as the show goes on....idk how to explain it but like #when jane needs help he closes himself off; he keeps secrets and he schemes and he lies ('let me help you' 'you're sweet') #because he's trying to keep the people he cares about - the people he never planned on caring about as much as he does - safe #even as he shares more with lisbon (and sometimes the rest of the team) he still doesn't share everything #because that puts them at risk #and that's what lisbon used to do to - in the earlier seasons she put up walls when she felt vulnerable; and she still does in some cases #but with this case especially she's much more accepting of help - she relies on her team (not that she doesn't usually) #and she's practically an open book to jane - in this scene most of all - she lets herself be more vulnerable #(and open to suggestions/ideas she might otherwise scoff at or reject) #idk idk it's very interesting but this scene makes me so wacky there's something so soft and tender and understanding about it #the way there's no spoken acknowledgement - no 'i'll help' or 'thank you' - just the silent understanding that they're in this together #because they're partners #(also the way he picks at the rest of her food - the 'done with this?' the only thing they say - and the framing through the window #is still somehow very domestic it's like my perfect scene) #spinning my wheels hard i'm not thinking clearly i just love everything about it

[ickypuppi3]

i can’t really picture steve’s parents giving a shit about his birthday and i kinda feel like he forgets about it himself or at least tries to

so imagine billy finding out (thank you tommy) when it is, turning up at steve’s house the night before and telling him to get his ass in the car

doesn’t tell him why, just waits for steve to get in because they both know he will

and he drives them to the quarry, pulls out a six pack and a joint and they lie on the hood of the camaro, looking at the stars

as soon as the sun starts to rise, billy pulls out something small, rectangular and wrapped in paper

he shoves it at steve, who looks at him, confused, before unwrapping it, and-

“you uh… you made me a mixtape?”

“told you before, pretty boy, your taste in music is shit”

billy tilts the can he’s holding, enough to knock it against steve’s

“happy birthday, harrington”

#this is that weird harringrove stage #where they’re like #friends-ish #season 2 era yk #post fight #billy doesn’t know how to be open and vulnerable with anyone yet #but he’s damn well gonna try #for steve #because he likes steve #we call billy a crybaby #and rightfully so #but steve would fall to his knees over someone doing the smallest thing for him let’s not lie #they’re both as bad as each other #harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #my words

[schmweed]

#Gerri Kellman #Roman Roy #Coming in all brash and joking about her 'tiny name' and asking abt her daughters #when he's really actually worried he wasn't good enough for her #and she was about to realize it and worry she'd tethered herself to him. #He not only felt worried about that but he also went ahead and voiced his fears to her. #He would NEVER be that vulnerable with anyone else #and the trust and faith goes both ways -- I love how later in the episode #she leveled with him that he and his siblings could actually bring Logan down even though it would NOT be in her best interests #Succession #my gifs #I also obviously love the totally necessary tongue thing -- he's just worried and serious and lost in serious thought #nothing to do with gazing at her of COURSE :D #I love them so much. I miss them SO MUCH! #I can't get over the fantastic finale. The amazing door it left amazingly WIDE OPEN for anything and everything to happen down the road. #They will get their happy ending. She will rescue him. He will believe she's doing it because she wants to #and he will let her and he will be rescued #and she will get all the drawn-out groveling and apologizing she more than deserves from him #and I don't think there's ever been a couple better suited to be together. <3 #also can anyone with serious giffing prowess do these gifs properly please PLEASE and thank you? #the gifsets people make using Photoshop are GORGEOUS #uploading videos to a site will never reach that level.