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inkskinned · 1 year

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one of the things that i think we should pay attention to, socially, about the disney v. desantis thing is that it is really highlighting the importance of remembering nuance.

in a purely neutral sense, if you engage in something problematic, that does not mean you are necessarily agreeing with what makes it problematic. and i am worried that we have become... so afraid of any form of nuance.

disney isn't my friend, they're a corporate monopoly that bastardized copyright laws for their own benefit, ruin the environment, and abuse their workers (... and many other things). this isn't a hypothetical for me - i grew up in florida. i also worked for the actual Walt Disney World; like, in the parks. i am keenly aware of the ways they hurt people, because they hurt me. i fully believe that part of the reason florida is so conservative is because it's been an "open secret" for years now that disney lobbies the government to keep minimum wage down, and i know they worked hard to keep the parks unmasked and open during the worst parts of Covid. they purposefully keep their employees in poverty. they are in part responsible for the way the floridian government works.

desantis is still, by a margin that is frankly daunting, way worse. the alternative here isn't just "republicans win", it's actual fascism.

in a case like this, where the alternative is to allow actual fascism into united states legislation - where, if desantis wins, there are huge and legal ramifications - it's tempting to minimize the harm disney is also doing, because... well, it's not fascism. but disney isn't the good guy, either, which means republicans are having a field day asking activists oh, so you think their treatment of their employees is okay?

we have been trained there is a right answer. you're right! you're in the good group, and you're winning at having an opinion.

except i have the Internet Prophecy that in 2-3 months, even left-wing people will be ripping apart activists for having "taken disney's side". aren't i an anti-capitalist? aren't i pro-union? aren't i one of the good ones? removed from context and nuance (that in this particular situation i am forced to side with disney, until an other option reveals itself), my act of being like "i hope they have goofy rip his throat out onstage, shaking his lifeless body like a dog toy" - how quickly does that seem like i actually do support disney?

and what about you! at home, reading this. are you experiencing the Thought Crime of... actually liking some of the things disney has made? your memories of days at the parks, or of good movies, or of your favorite show growing up. maybe you are also evil, if you ever enjoyed anything, ever, at all.

to some degree, the binary idealization/vilification of individual motive and meaning already exists in the desantis case. i have seen people saying not to go to the disney pride events because they're cash grabs (they are). i've seen people saying you have to go because they're a way to protest. there isn't a lot of internet understanding of nuance. instead it's just "good show of support" or "evil bootlicking."

this binary understanding is how you can become radicalized. when we fear nuance and disorder, we're allowing ourselves the safety of assuming that the world must exist in binary - good or bad, problematic or "not" problematic. and unfortunately, bigots want you to see the world in this binary ideal. they want you to get mad at me because "disney is taking a risk for our community but you won't sing their praises" and they want me to get mad at you for not respecting the legit personal trauma that disney forced me through.

in a grander scheme outside of disney: what happens is a horrific splintering within activist groups. we bicker with each other about minimal-harm minimal-impact ideologies, like which depiction of bisexuality is the most-true. we gratuitously analyze the personal lives of activists for any sign they might be "problematic". we get spooked because someone was in a dog collar at pride. we wring our hands about setting an empty shopping mall on fire. we tell each other what words we may identify ourselves by. we get fuckin steven universe disk horse when in reality it is a waste of our collective time.

the bigots want you to spend all your time focusing on how pristine and pretty you and your interests are. they want us at each other's throats instead of hand in hand. they want to say see? nothing is ever fucking good enough for these people.

and they want their followers to think in binary as well - a binary that's much easier to follow. see, in our spaces, we attack each other over "proper" behavior. but in bigoted groups? they attack outwards. they have someone they hate, and it is us. they hate you, specifically, and you are why they have problems - not the other people in their group. and that's a part of how they fucking keep winning.

some of the things that are beloved to you have a backbone in something terrible. the music industry is a wasteland. the publishing industry is a bastion of white supremacy. video games run off of unpaid labor and abuse.

the point of activism was always to bring to light that abuse and try to stop it from happening, not to condemn those who engage in the content that comes from those industries. "there is no ethical consumption under late capitalism" also applies to media. your childhood (and maybe current!) love of the little mermaid isn't something you should now flinch from, worried you'll be a "disney adult". wanting the music industry to change for the better does not require that you reject all popular music until that change occurs. you can acknowledge the harm something might cause - and celebrate the love that it has brought into your life.

we must detach an acknowledgment of nuance from a sense of shame and disgust. we must. punishing individual people for their harmless passions is not doing good work. encouraging more thoughtful, empathetic consumption does not mean people should feel ashamed of their basic human capacities and desires. it should never have even been about the individual when the corporation is so obviously the actual evil. this sense that we must live in shame and dread of our personal nuances - it just makes people bitter and hopeless. do you have any idea how scared i am to post this? to just acknowledge the idea of nuance? that i might like something nuanced, and engage in it joyfully? and, at the same time, that i'm brutally aware of the harm that they're doing?

"so what do i do?" ... well, often there isn't a right answer. i mean in this case, i hope mickey chops off ron's head and then does a little giggle. but truth be told, often our opinions on nuanced subjects will differ. you might be able to engage in things that i can't because the nuance doesn't sit right with me. i might think taylor swift is a great performer and a lot of fun, and you might be like "raquel, the jet fuel emissions". we are both correct; neither of us have any actual sway in this. and i think it's important to remember that - the actual scope of individual responsibility. like, i also love going to the parks. Thunder Mountain is so fun. you (just a person) are not responsible for the harm that Disney (the billion dollar corporation) caused me. i don't know. i think it's possible to both enjoy your memories and interrogate the current state of their employment policies.

there is no right way to interrogate or engage with nuance - i just hope you embrace it readily.

#does this make sense #to do be deleted probably yikes #(takes a swing at a wasp's nest)#like i think ppl have started to just be really quiet when they like something 'problematic'#and im like... u can be like -#girl tswift NEEDS to just TAKE A BUS . LIKE?????????????????????#while also being like.#''she's a lot of fun''#if ur personal policy is that u don't support her for that reason that's great #but it's like. eating meat???#like yeah some people won't bc the environment. but the fact i eat meat doesn't mean i hate the earth #like i can say that i think the meat industry is HORRIFIC and also downright cruel to its employees #but like. still enjoy a chicken nugget....#there are people who choose otherwise. it's okay . we are people. i make like no money. u probably don't either #us fighting about whether or not it's Right To Eat The Chicken Tender just distracts from like.#actually turning your ire on the corporation #i hope it's clear what i'm saying here is like. when we fight each other for Purity Reasons #we are just doing the work of corporations . for free. like they WANT us to be doing this lol #it's the fucking DREAM of the upperclass that now ALL forms of responsibility fall on the individual

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ruporas · 1 year

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asking and receiving (bonus below readmore)

[ID: A black and white, digital Trigun comic of Vash and Wolfwood. In the first panel is a close up of Wolfwood's mouth as he says, "Vash". Accompanying it is a close up shot of Vash's eye, widen and cheeks flushed. Wolfwood presses a knee against the open space between Vash's legs and says, "Tell me everything you want from me." Wolfwood's face is equally as flushed. He continues to say, "I'll give it to you. Everything." As he talks, a wide shot shows the both of them in white space. Vash is sitting, leaning a little back with both hands pressed against the surface he's sitting on. Wolfwood is in his white dress shirt, stripped of the blazer. He's still leaning in with one knee in between Vash's spread legs, his right hand touching Vash's lips and his left hand behind his back.

The shot closes in on Vash's mouth and Wolfwood's hand against it, pressing down on the lower lip as he says, "You have to ask though. Go on." His hand moves down to Vash's chin, gently holding it. With a shy and uncertain expression, Vash hesitantly asks, "Um... K... Kiss... Please?" Wolfwood, without wasting a second, leans in and kisses him and indulges by pressing deeper, eliciting a small noise of surprise from Vash.

Wolfwood moves away from Vash first and with a smile, asks, "What else?" Vash tugs on Wolfwood's left sleeve, wordlessly budging Wolfwood to give him his hand that was still behind his back. In the next panel, Vash utters, "Hold me..?" He's holding Wolfwood's left hand with his own while his right hand is reaching for his waist. Wolfwood complies, moving his left hand to Vash's shoulder and his right hand continues to touch Vash's cheek. Wolfwood asks again, "What else?"

More comfortable now, Vash leans in to kiss Wolfwood. Wolfwood catches him immediately, pressing his thumb against Vash's lips to stop him before demanding, "Hey. Ask." Vash looks back in surprise and Wolfwood meets his eye with a quiet, insistent look. They're quiet for a moment before Vash leans in again and curtly requests, "Kiss. Me." Wolfwood says "Good", smiling as he lifts his hand away, and meets Vash's lips. In the next shot, Wolfwood had adjusted his position, sitting on Vash's thigh. The hand that was once on Vash's cheek has moved its way to Vash's nape, pushing away the collar of his jacket with his pinky. His other hand continues to grip on Vash's shoulder. Still kissing, Wolfwood asks again, "What else?"

In the next shot, Vash is starting to turn, moving Wolfwood with him. Vash asks, "Let me on top of you?" Wolfwood says, "Mhm" before asking again, "What else?" The next panel shows a close look of Vash's face. He's looking down, flushed and shy just as he had been at the beginning, but now, more decisive. Vash asks, "Wolfwood... Let me have you..?" A panel of Wolfwood taking Vash's hand into his, pulling it towards his chest. The next panel shows Wolfwood lying down where Vash had laid him. Vash's hand is on Wolfwood's chest, covering the cross of his rosary while Wolfwood's hand lingers against his, loosely pressing Vash's hand in place. He looks up at Vash with a shy smile of his own, flushed cheeks. He says, "All yours."

A panel shows a close up of Vash's tender gaze before he leans down to be closer to Wolfwood. The final shot is a front view of their positions, Vash's face turned away from the viewer; Vash is leaning over Wolfwood who's lying down with his right leg draped over Vash's legs. Wolfwood's left hand holds onto Vash's left arm. With finality, Vash says, "...Mine." End ID]

[ID: A follow up bonus comic in a looser, sketchier style. They're laying comfortably in bed when Vash asks, "What was that earlier?" referecing to the start of the previous comic. Wolfwood glances away and says, "To get you used to it. Asking. And getting what you ask for. Since you're alwasy hesitant about it." Vash's eyes widen, tight lipped. Wolfwood continues, "Knowing you, it'll be a tough habit to break..." When he says this, Vash can't help but laugh, unable to deny it. Wolfwood slowly brings a hand to Vash's cheek and continues to say, "So I'll keep trying -- whatever ways I can... to get it through your thick skull." Vash takes Wolfwood's hand with his, kissing the the palm gently. Wolfwood's eyes soften and holding onto Vash's cheek, he leans in to try for a kiss. Vash says, "Hey..." before stopping Wolfwood's lips with the back of his hand, a smug look on his face, "Ask." Wolfwood's embarrassed and with little irritation, asks, "Really?" Vash smiles, saying, "You're in need of practice too." They pause for a moment, Wolfwood looking contemplatively, before he's leaning in again, asking, "May I please kiss you?" Vash looks him in the eyes and says, "Yes." The comic ends with a "chu", indicating an off-panel kiss. End ID]

#vashwood #vash the stampede #nicholas d wolfwood #trigun #trigun maximum #it took me so long to post this even after getting clarification about the maturity warning and stuff #bc i am so shy about it. SDGMKDSGMKSD I LIKE THIS COMIC BUT IM ALSO SO LIKE... AUGHHHH....#when i posted this on twitter though it was like... a few days after ep 11? ive always had the thought circling about vash deserving of #asking for things... and getting what he wants bc he never gets both. doesn't get the opportunity to ask and hardly does he get what he want #maybe the results can go in his favor but at some point along the way he'll still lose something bc nothing can ever go perfectly for him...#and he's usually the one begging and pleading with people to not. do something. it's not even asking at that point it's just straight up #please believe me. please trust me. please don't shoot that person. please don't kill anyone. please don't do it.#and wolfwood.... it was not always this lovey dovey ok. he wouldv noticed this habit miles away and they got into a fight about it the first #time they talked about it bc wolfwood is being hypocritical too. as he always is!!!! but i think as they get more intimate #wolfwood finds ways to make vash understand. smth smth insatiable want and love and desire for wolfwood that makes it much easier to ask.#wolfwood can also just be so compliant. sometimes. which is also an issue in of itself that id love to explore at some point #but he also just enjoys giving into vash fully and completely.#bc he loves him a lot. but anyway #i hope the id is comprehendible.... please lmk if there's something wrong with how im doing it asfdgkdsmgs #ruporas art

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otaku553 · 10 months

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Haha

#yanqing #honkai star rail #hsr yanqing #my immediate fixation on ice wielding child genius characters in every media I consume strikes again #idk I just think he’s neat!! and so is his gender #he’s definitely overdesigned but I do enjoy the general shape of his clothes #like wow… baggy outer layer AND baggy inner layer #how come you get to have two baggy layers #still don’t know that much about him even after reading his character stories on the wiki #so I’m hoping that his quest writes him well #I suppose there’s some degree of like interesting contrast in the fact that he’s very young on a ship full of people who live very long live #but I feel like regardless they really don’t give him much of a personality besides his hyperfixation on swords and the general naivety and #inexperience from youth yknow what I mean #I just think it would be cool to see like why he’s so ambitious! was he railroaded into being a knight because of his talents? did he try #to be accepted as a knight? what kinds of expectations is he facing and what expectations does he place on himself as a result #I really hope he isn’t just there to be a simpler minded child character for jingyuan to take care of

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galaxystt · 6 months

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finished double life... so naturally i've started working on an animatic ;v; the lads are tragic and its their fault (and i love it)

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canisalbus · 5 months

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I'd like to say that I love your art but never really saw the older stuff where Machete is just getting the shit kicked out of him by a homophobic universe so I only know your cute gay dogs as operatically dramatic dudes getting into Situations that only homosexuality can save them from.

#Machete has a long history of getting the shit kicked out of him #it's still funny to me that there's now a significant amount of people that got to know him as one half of the cute gay dog duo #he's an angsty venty edgy misery sink of a character #folks that have followed my work for years have watched him get stabbed eviscerated and beheaded on the regular #this redemption arc of finding hope and love and coffee shops is a new development #answered #anonymous #I personally enjoy the boyfriend shenanigans greatly I'm unironically happy for them

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spellbird · 8 months

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(Read from left to right)

Had an intrusive thought about Kazuki's facial hair and just had to make a little comic about it! It's been a while since I've made comics, so sorry that it's kinda messy/ just sketches. I tried to clean them up as best as I could!

#buddy daddies #rei suwa #kazuki kurusu #kazurei #miri unasaka #comic #fanart #my art #(i feel like I should make a tag for my art that's a bit less generic since I rarely use my art account for things anymore)#anyway to the like 3 people still left in this fandom plz enjoy <3 #sorry if this formatting is weird #im hoping tumblr doesn't fuck with it and idk how to make comics #I'd ideally like to clean these sketches up so they look nicer but I don't have the time or energy tbh #this has been sitting in my WIPs for at least a month now

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fexiled · 9 months

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sparkle on, it's wmob wmonday

#mob psycho 100 #mp100 #reigen arataka #kageyama shigeo #dimple mp100 #ekubo #redraw reigen #(do people still use that tag)#fex draws #me: this is just a silly little meme redraw don't get too detail--*spends 20 mins testing various overlay/shading effects on that drink*#anyway hi mob fandom hope you enjoy the first fanart i've done of these guys :3 #did i draw reigen ugly enough. pls advise

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verflares · 2 months

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new guy just dropped

#this is very self indulgent but. i hope people will enjoy looking at the colours (goes away to work on more self indulgent thingz)#these are mostly just concepts while i figured out how i wanted him to look... im still not sure abt his outfit LOL #costume design.... my archnemesis. what IS here is stuff i like but will simplify/refine later and its mostly insp from elden ring + sekiro #he also looks a lot like wild link but eh. i feel like Making a link means u gotta try and make sure he looks like them too #even for an og one like oh! yeah that guy is eternally tormented for sure #link #loz #loz au #tloz #zelda #idk how else to tag this. i also dont have a tagline for my au yet im still brainstorming. but ill come back and update when i do #my art

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adrinktostopyourthirst · 8 months

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Bucky Barnes | One Shot | Rebound

Part two to Underground

Pairing: Fighter!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Plot: You lose your last tether to the normal world and Bucky has to make a decision. You’re officially part of the Underground. Does he help you, or not?

Warnings: 18+. Angst, violence, fluff and smut.

Words: 5OOO

The demanding throbbing in your feet nearly feels delightful as you drag yourself home to your cramped apartment. As the sun rises and the city turns pink and orange, your building starts to come alive. Though you can barely manage to keep your eyes open.

You can tell the Underground is starting to toughen you up. You make longer days, are a bit paler in your face, making your features sharper, and the bravado you muster as you survive every night is surely something that has started to cling to your face and posture permanently. The people that start their days at sunrise, the ones that weren’t blipped from society and still have a life to return to, they walk around you in a big circle now.

It only makes you feel smug. The society slowly casting you out – starting to fear you.

However, your confidence has a short lifespan when you walk up to the front door of your apartment. The fresh paper with red capital letters stamped on it shouldn’t come as a surprise. You have tried to hold this moment off for as long as possible, going even as far as to take small side jobs in the fighting dome to make some extra money.

You suppose it was only a matter of time before you’d have the words ‘EVICTION NOTICE’ stamped across your door.

And your adrenaline spikes again, realising the time has come that you are officially homeless. You have been well and truly cast out by society, something both you and Natasha had been trying to fight and hold off for as long as possible. This is why the spy had introduced you to the Underground, to make some sort of living. And Nat had never judged you for staying in denial a little longer, even though you knew you would have to get used to the Underground fast, because it was only a matter of time before it would be your new home.

So no sleep for now.

You rip open the door and start packing, leaving all the old furniture that was already there and ending up with one big, stuffed duffel bag and a smaller bag. And then you stand in your place that is no longer your place and truly has never really felt like your place. You look around and feel angry …and hurt. After all, you have been chewed up and spit out, like so many before you.

You stuff that feeling far, far away and vacate the building right as de evening rolls back in. Evening already – since you have tried to put off this moment for as long as possible, have extended packing for hours. Since you don’t have a clue where Natasha lives, if she even resides in the country right now, you are forced to step to the one person you do not want to go to…

As you enter the dome, the place eerily quiet since the nightlife is a long way from commencing, you mildly greet the bartenders and crewmembers readying for the night. You scrunch your face at the stench, wondering if the place ever really gets cleaned. In the darker corners you see things that you decide are none of your business and you drag yourself through centre of the Underground, the capitol of dodgy business.

Making your way to the locker room, you breathe a sigh of relief when you find it empty. Finding a locker in the far back, you stuff it full with your last belongings and pray that none of it gets stolen. Maybe you can find a place in this building to sleep in. You have definitely seen other people crash here for the night, though you debate how safe you’d be. You hardly think you’d close an eye in a place like this.

Then, all the hairs on your body stand up straight.

You slowly turn to find Bucky staring at you, one brow quirked and that being the only sign of his curiosity. “Why are you already here?”

You swallow, “Just trying to get some extra work in.”

Neither of you have talked about what happened nearly a month ago. How you rode his leg with his fingers inside of you until you had one of the most intense orgasms of your life. And how that had been enough for him to come nearly untouched. Well, you say untouched, but you had felt just how heavy he was on your tongue and that’s where you wanted him coming next. Badly.

And you can’t exactly say the tension between you has shifted much. Something that made you realise just how high tensions between you already were. But you dropped it, so had he.

“You have to be careful with those side businesses,” he tells you as he turns to his own locker, one that does have a lock. “People will take advantage of a woman like you.”

“I can take care of myself just fine, thank you,” you snap at him and move to find your bag of supplies for the fight. You try to calm your breathing as you find the bag, kneel down and rummage through it, checking if you need to restock any of your supplies, if only to give yourself something to do for the upcoming hours.

But your spine stiffens again and it’s a little darker around you. So you turn and immediately stand up with you see Bucky looming over you. His eyes rove over your face, peering straight through to your soul, where it quivers before him.

“If you could take care of yourself,” he drawls, “you wouldn’t be homeless right now.”

You startle, “What? How do you know?”

He smiles, but it feels more vindictive than smug. “Because word travels fast, sweetheart, and a pretty girl like you on the loose is gold in the Underground.” He pauses and then his smirk turns smug, “Especially when she’s desperate.”

“I’m not desperate!” you squawk in outrage and he takes a step closer, close enough to feel his breath fanning over your face.

He clenches his jaw, eyes hardening. “What are you going to do?”

“I’ll figure it out.”

“How?”

“That is none of your concern.”

Bucky lets out a humourless laugh, tilting his head up and running his tongue over his teeth in annoyance before he lowers his gaze back to yours. “You see, it seems like I’ve signed a stupid fuckin’ contract where that is my concern. So please tell me you have a plan and I don’t have to intervene.”

“Intervene?” you sneer and roll your eyes. “Please, it’s not like you can offer me anything out of this place. You’re not here by choice.”

He quirks his brow, seemingly intrigued by that assumption. “Is that what you think? What if I was here by choice, huh? What if I chose this life?”

You fall silent at that, and decide to keep it like that. An argument with him won’t be worth it. Besides, what are you going to tell him? You have nothing and no one. You are officially at your wit’s end and for you, that is saying a lot. The silence stretches… and stretches…

“Give me something to do,” you tell him quietly –deflated– when he doesn’t break the silence either. You don’t see Bucky’s face soften when he watches the defeat in your face before you stare down at the ground.

Bucky’s skin prickles like there is electricity in the air. Because he’s angry. He’s pissed and furious and so fucking angry. That the world can spit out a woman like you, like it has let down so many good people after the Blip.

And the anger doesn’t cease. It only gets worse, like magma bubbling under his skin and boiling his bones. That night, he beats up opponent after opponent in what seems like a record time. People get killed in these fights all the time, they fight to the death all the time. After all, there are too many people and they know what they signed up for when they enter this place. Yet, it’s a line Bucky has never crossed, never will cross. Not anymore.

It’s difficult, to stay of this side of that line tonight. He wants to kill. He feels the soldier crawling under his skin, flipping knives in anticipation, begging Bucky to unleash him. And he thinks he has hardly been this angry before. Bucky yanks on that leash and fights, each punch and kick doing nothing to quench his thirst for justice.

Win after win, Bucky ruins everyone who dares to take it up against him. But he doesn’t hear the crowd – the screams for more blood and sensation, the cheers that he is the most dangerous man in the Underground. He only hears the rushing of his blood in his ears as he thinks about the woman the world has abandoned – as he thinks about you.

…

“Grab your bags. You’re coming with me.”

You gape at your two bags sitting on the leather bench and peer back at all of the lockers, each of them seeming like they have been ripped open with brute force, some of them dented in a manner that looks like a metal hand gripped its edges. You briefly glance at his metal hand and then up to his face.

Unflinching. His command and his face.

So you grab your bags and follow after him silently. Through countless of alleys and wild crowds that seem to think the night of violence has only just begun, even though the sky is turning lilac with dawn. You sometimes hobble to catch up with the soldier, your arms quaking under the weight of your duffel bag. But you keep marching onward, the last dregs of your energy fuelled by what is to come.

The stairs of the industrial building are almost too much, but you try not to stumble since Bucky is walking behind you and that would severely hurt your pride. The fatigue is making every step feel like torture, like you’re climbing a sandy hill and you have to move carefully to keep from slipping into the dark depths. When you do stumble slightly, the weight of your duffel tipping you backwards, you feel the faintest nudge of a warm hand at your lower back, just enough to tip you back and let you continue your trek up the stairs.

Bucky overtakes you at last and opens a door with around twenty locks attached to it, all of them unlocked. He walks in like it’s habitual and you trudge after him, your energy spiking enough to take in the sight. Bucky walks over to the floor to ceiling windows and rolls down the beige canvas curtains. Just as the sun peaks over the horizon of the city and orange light pours into what you can only assume is Bucky’s home.

It's big. Simple and imposing, but cosy nonetheless. There are plants, a fact that has you fighting to keep from smiling. And brown leather furniture, a beautiful and clean kitchen… You turn your gaze back to the man of the house, who is now standing beside a massive bed with cream sheets and fluffy pillows. Your eyes become bleary at the sight, sleep fighting its way to the surface and threatening to drag you to the floor.

Bucky panics slightly at the look on your face and strides over, grasping your bag from your trembling arms. He has to hold back from cursing at the thought that you must not have slept for over forty-eight hours and how dreadful the past day must have been for you.

He guides you to his bed and lets you collapse into the sheets as he pulls off your boots. Bucky knows you would have put up more of a fight if you weren’t so exhausted, but he won’t use it against you. Just like you didn’t use his weakness against him when you were massaging him.

That massage.

He cannot cast the thought from his brain. Never mind what followed the massage. The woman that was on his knees for him, that came around his fingers and was moaning for him so beautifully – she seems like such a far cry from the woman before him. How you can be so careful and feisty, yet such a dream when it comes to his most sinful fantasies. What you did to him in that locker room that day has been playing in his head on repeat. And he wants to slap himself for wanting to crawl beneath the sheets now, drag those clothes off your body, spread your thighs and bury his face between them–

He quickly stands from the bed and clears his throat, casting you one more look before he’s off to the kitchen area and refill his energy in other ways.

…

When you wake up, it’s dark again. It takes you a while to orient yourself, your body fighting off the heavy blanket of sleep you have been swaddled in. The bed below you is more comfortable than anything you have ever felt and the smell–

Pushing up to a seat, your body becomes alert of your surroundings just in time to hear the rattle of about twenty locks opening. In walks Bucky, slumping as he moves his bruised body across his own floors. He notices you, doesn’t pay you any mind, and then plants himself to sit at the edge of the bed you are laying in. He bends down with a quiet grunt, unlacing his boots and peeling them from his feet.

He seems exhausted. And judging by the darkness, he has called in an early night. You push off the sheets and crawl towards him. Bucky tenses almost imperceptibly, but you gently put your palms on his wide shoulders. You swear you see him shudder, before his back bends over more in relaxation.

“I lost tonight,” he tells you as you slowly circle your warm palms over his back.

He lost. That’s unlikely. Something must have happened for him to lose. He must have been distracted. Or someone new has joined the Underground. Something’s maybe different. Shit, you were supposed to take care of him yesterday. He’d fought harder than you’d ever seen him fight. He must have been broken this morning– But, no. He has fought fights without your care for God knows how long. It couldn’t have made a difference now.

“What happened?” you ask, doubtful he’ll open up to you.

His head snaps backwards and you flinch at the look in his eyes. “What do you mean ‘what happened’? You happened. Can’t fucking focus with you being all dramatic with your personal bullshit.”

You draw back. “Excuse me?! I don’t recall making my problems yours!”

“Well, they are now, aren’t they?” he snipes back and runs his hands through his hair in frustration.

And you think maybe it’s not you he’s frustrated with.

“What do you want from me?” you ask quietly. Timidly.

You barely hear him, his voice muffled by his hands as he speaks, “I want you on all fours.”

But you did hear him. Some part of you heard him, that’s for sure. The heat that left your body after your endless sleep is returning to you in a different form, pebbling your skin with anticipation. You swallow hard and barely manage to get out, “What?”

Bucky takes a deep breath and slowly turns to you.

“Lie on your stomach.” The order is soft, but so, so clear and not gentle by any means. You search his eyes frantically, but only find his immovable self. Your traitorous body lights on fire at what she finds. So you do as you’re told.

And you wait.

Two large, warm hands travel up your clothed legs. Kneading your calves, your thighs, until they knead your ass. You cannot help but push your hips back to seek the pressure. You feel his looming presence crawl over you and you hold your breath. Soft lips press to your shoulder that got exposed after your shirt slipped slightly.

His hands slip around your hips and under them. The feeling of your jeans popping open, makes your core throb with need. He pulls your jeans down, but not off. No, just far enough down for access and to keep you in place, barely enough give even allow you to squirm.

Then, you feel his weight press into your body and you could have never imagined feeling his weight would be enough to make you want to moan. That’s when you register the feeling of his hard bulge against your ass and you push up against him again. Bucky answers with a muffled growl against your shoulder, followed by a gentle bite as a warning.

“Careful,” he drawls, one hand holding him up slightly as his other spreads over your side and slips under your shirt to feel your bare skin. You shudder at the feeling and bite your lip, your fingers curling into the pillow below your head.

How is this even possible? How can you deteriorate so quickly when he has barely touched you? His breaths turn heavy against your neck and you twist your head to hear him better, your mouth so close to his now. You wonder why it is that his breathing is coming out more laboured, but the only thing you can come up with is that it’s plain old restraint that is stiffening his body, his lungs.

One of your hands reaches back and up, and you scrape the pads of your fingers over his stubble. Bucky’s grip on the sheets tightens and his hips roll down into you in response. His mouth attaches itself to your neck and he hums as he grazes his teeth over your skin, his tongue soothing the pain instantly.

“Bucky,” you whisper and he rolls his hips again. The hand under your shirt slides to your front and grabs your breast, kneading the flesh in his hand. Desperate, clingy. He groans.

Something is shifting between the two of you and you feel a rawness coming to the surface. You remind yourself Bucky is requesting this for a reason, but he might be lost in it. In you. Then, you hear him mumble against your skin. Something you’re not sure he wants you to hear, but you give a soft coo to urge him to repeat himself.

“Please,” he moans softly. “Please.”

His hand slides down and wastes no time before slipping into your underwear, his entire hand cupping your cunt as he rolls his fingers through your folds. You gasp and let out a moan, writhing your hips when you cannot choose between moving up or down.

He’s rutting into you like a starved man, his fingers indulging in their exploration like he’ll find salvation between your legs. You open your mouth to ask him what he wants, but he rolls his fingers over your clit and you let out a whimper instead, making Bucky nuzzle his nose right below your ear.

“You’re all warm,” he mumbles and kisses your neck, your jaw – so close to your lips. His fingers are torture, so devious yet so innocent. As if he’s completely content playing with you like this for hours. Your belly flutters and tightens and warms at the sensations he coaxes to the surface.

It’s selfish, what he’s doing. This is all him, trying to console himself.

“Don’t,” you breathe desperately and roll your hips into his hand. “Don’t tease, Bucky.”

“ ‘M not. Just feeling you,” he whispers and you open your mouth to fight him on it, but then his warm mouth covers yours and the moan that spills from your throat is sinful. His tongue immediately invades you and you melt as he consumes you everywhere that he can. One finger slips through your wetness and into you and Bucky inhales the response you give him, groaning in response.

He grinds down, so do you, completely out of sync and with mouths moving desperately over each other. You cling to your pillow with one hand and bury your other in Bucky’s hair, pulling when he adds another finger and his weight keeps you from moving into him more. You whine against him, sensations at war within you when he keeps playing with you like a selfish cat.

“I’m so fucking wet,” you whimper and Bucky grunts in agreement, nibbling on your bottom lip. “Just stop playing–”

Bucky laughs then – laughs – a manly chuckle as he nudges his nose against yours. You want to cry for mercy and your toes curl when his fingers do, making you clench around him tightly. Your orgasm is being dangled in front of you like a carrot and you wonder if he just wants you to feel the way he feels. Frustrated, angry. Like he has no control whatsoever.

But what he does next goes so fast, it makes your head spin. Your body goes cold when his fingers leave you and when his body rises from yours, leaving you behind. But your hips get lifted and the pillow below your head gets snatched and shoved beneath your hips. You try to move, if only to accommodate his inexplicable actions, but your jeans are keeping you from moving.

You feel him crawl over you again and this time, you do moan at the pressure, bending your back to press up against him. He grinds down in response and you feel the pressure of the pillow against your womb, shooting tingles through your limbs when you realise what he’s done.

One of Bucky’s hands slides over yours and pins it to the mattress, your fingers automatically curling around the security of his. And it’s nice, the feeling of him engulfing you. It feels safe and warm and insanely intense. You turn your head, hoping to find him near. Your heart swells when he presses a kiss to your cheekbone.

“I want to fuck you,” he murmurs against you skin and you nod frantically, making him chuckle again. “I’m not against begging for it at this point.”

And apparently, you’re not entirely gone, since your lips curl into a smirk and your voice drops to a low purr when you tell him, “Please beg for me.”

How ironic, to beg someone to beg for you. Though, your brief confidence doesn’t falter. If anything, it is about to skyrocket.

“Come on, baby,” he murmurs against your ear, his soft lips moving against the sensitive skin. “Let me inside you. Let me make you feel good.” He sounds so genuine, so depraved and full of longing. You have to swallow down the carnal desire that crawls up your throat. You nearly choke when you feel the tip of his bare cock nudge against your folds. “Open up for me. Let me slip right in and I’ll fuck you into the mattress, okay? My mattress.”

You nearly whine, all ready to completely cave for him. And then he finishes it with a whisper in your ear, “Please, sweetheart. Let me have you.”

Yeah. Yes. Oh, yes. You mouth the words, but no sound comes out. You might be slipping outside of your body. The way Bucky sounds – his voice so deep, yet needy. You can only nod your head and squeeze his hand, rubbing yourself up against the tip of him.

“Hm, good girl.”

He slides home with one easy thrust, pressing you down into the mattress and skating his cock over each of your swollen walls. You cannot form a sound, or a thought, or catch a fucking breath. Especially not when he rotates his hips slightly and presses down even further.

You nearly choke, quiet for a long second, before you heave in all the oxygen that you can manage, “Oh my god!”

He pulls out slightly and rolls back in, keeping you full and stuffed and only nudging your spot with the tip of him. Over, and over, and over–

“That’s the spot, huh?” he pants against your ear and ruts into you further. “Right… there.” You gasp on a whine and he presses a kiss to your temple. The pillow adds a delicious pressure and you wish to put your hand there, just to feel him move in and out of you.

It’s so perfect, so sating, so much and deep and– You didn’t know it could be like this. Didn’t know it was possible to suddenly realise how screwed you are for the future. How nothing and no one will ever be able to compare to this. To him.

Your orgasm crawls closer and it feels like nothing you have felt before. Your clit is throbbing and aching and your walls are hugging Bucky like he’s never allowed to leave. Your hips tighten and your shoulders scrunch as your orgasm clamps down on you like a snake ready to strike.

“Bucky, I’m–”

He tightens his grip on your hand and latches onto your hip. “Yeah, I know. Me, too.”

You hear the strain in his voice, the hint of disappointment and you scramble to get your brain back in order. “Come in me, Bucky. Come inside me,” you rush out through quick breaths. You can’t elaborate. You just need him to fill you.

He leans back over and slows his thrusts, his breath fanning over your flushed skin. “Yeah? You want me to make a mess of you? You want proof that I fucked you deep enough?”

You let out a grumpy whine and he laughs beautifully as he drops his forehead to the back of your head. He picks up his thrusts, slow and deep and steady. His swollen cock slides over every cushion inside of you and you shudder at how sensitive your are so close to your orgasm. But it comes quicker than you anticipated. You wanted him to go faster, but with this tempo, you feel the orgasm that is coming closer might drown you.

You open your mouth to protest, to tell him to speed up, but the wave has already reached the shore and your ears hollow out.

The tremors seem to start from within as you swell with pleasure, seizing around Bucky and threatening to curl up. You think you might be grasping for something to hold onto as Bucky remains consistent through your orgasm, fucking into you with a steady rhythm and meeting you with every contraction of your high.

It is so completely overwhelming that you barely feel it when he comes, if it isn’t for the litany of beautiful moans and whimpers from him against your neck. He bites your skin to ground himself through his own orgasm and then melts over your body, pulling your hand to his lips.

Bucky quiets his own breaths to make sure he hears yours and is happy to learn how sated and satisfied you sound with your soft pants. He crawls off of you and gently tugs you over on your back, smiling as he watches you bend to his will.

Peeling off your jeans, he keeps his eyes on you, mesmerised with the sight and the feeling of having you in his bed. A feeling he had yesterday, too. Not just lust…

Your eyes peel open and you peer down at him while he strokes his sweaty palms up and down your calves and thighs. “Is this part of my ruse as a physical therapist and personal nurse now?”

Bucky quirks a brow at your wit and you feel something unfamiliar at the relaxation on him. How he seems more expressive and gentle and less guarded.

“No, this is private.”

Bucky’s eyes rove over your body and you flush with warmth, both from his words and from his assessing stare. You feel him drip from between your legs and swallow, fighting the urge to close your thighs. But Bucky, ever the trained assassin, immediately notices and lets a smirk crawl over his face.

He leans down and presses his lips to your left knee, eyes narrowing in on your cunt. “I thought I was going to have a heart attack when you told me to come inside of you.” You freeze at his words and keep a close eye on him. “I fucking knew the sight would be good, but–”

He lets out a starved groan.

You sound wary, “Bucky.”

He spreads your knees and crawls down to kneel at the foot of the bed, tugging you towards the edge. Surely, he wouldn’t–

You throw your head back when Bucky dives head first between your legs, running a flat tongue through your folds. You’re not sure if it’s the taste or simply the idea of him licking you clean of himself, but Bucky growls and hauls you closer, nudging his nose against your clit like he’ll never find anything better than what’s between your thighs.

You cannot help but bury your fingers in his hair, the wild throbbing between your legs pushing your mixed essences out and onto his tongue where Bucky drinks it up appreciatively. His fingers dig into your flesh and it takes a while for Bucky’s ministrations to have any other purpose than to taste you. But when he sucks your clit into his mouth, you tug on his hair with warning, making him chuckle.

“You don’t fight fair,” you choke out and he grins up at you.

“Oh, sweetheart, if you knew what the prize was, you wouldn’t fight fair either,” he murmurs and moans in delight as he continues his feasting. “Now how about you give me that prize and come on my tongue, huh?”

No, Bucky didn’t lose tonight.

#I did it #and under 6k words like HOW?!#who knew i was still even capable of that?#ok not a lot of people liked underground but the ones that did liked it A LOT #this is for you guys #and oops - i made him needy #i hope you enjoy it and as always please let me know what you think???#I need the validation THANKS #writing #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes oneshot #e to l

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be-an-echo · 5 months

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Merry Christmas guyyyss🎄

#merry christmas beautiful people #hope you're enjoying it as much as these two #let's admit tess cannot bake #she's learning in jackson but joel is still the one doing do cooking #as u can see it's for her own safety #oh and the first one? well it's up to you what happened there #u know it's funny how i always forget to draw some detail i really wanted to add and then remember a week later with OHHHH WHY #im wondering... what it is this time :D #i miss christmas... they are not what they used to be and im “forced” to spend them at work wearing shitty clothes my boss wants #i swear one more thing and im not only quitting my job but also attacking my employer #just kidding but f@*k bartending #sorry but its been a lot #tess servopoulos #joel miller #joel x tess #tess tlou #joel tlou #tessjoel #tess lives #why is it always end of the tags where i unleash this?

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fishofthewoods · 1 month

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Oh my god I woke up this morning and my Stardew Valley meta post had almost 150 notes????? Hello?????????? Anyways I started writing this last night because @moon-is-pretty-tonight left nice tags on the original so thank you so much!!

We know from the starting scenes of the game that the farmer's grandfather loved Stardew Valley. So why did he leave? Pelican Town is a good place to grow old; George and Evelyn are just fine. It's a fine place to raise a kid, but maybe he just wanted to raise his child closer to real schools and other children.

Or maybe, just maybe, he understood.

Was there a day when he was in his thirties where he looked at his friends and realized they weren't like him? That he could run faster than them, work longer, explore deeper into the hidden places of the valley?

Was there a day when he went to the wizard to ask him for help, for knowledge if nothing else? Did he learn then that his family was different? Special? Chosen? And how did he react? He couldn't possibly raise a child in the valley if they would be as strange and fey as him. He had to leave. There was no other way.

But years later, on his deathbed, did he regret that choice?

Is that why he gave the farmer the letter?

Is that why they went back home?

When the farmer steps off the bus that first day, the valley is still on the cusp of winter, just barely tipping over into spring. The flowers are starting to bloom, but a chill still hangs in the air. As soon as the farmer's boots touch the soil there's a change. The air gets warmer. The trees get greener. Not by too much, not all at once, but it changes.

The junimos watch the farmer as they do their work. They're new to farming, but take to it with frightening speed; their first batch of crops is perfect. None of the townsfolk tell them that parsnips don't normally grow in less than a week, that cauliflowers don't grow to be ten feet tall, that fairies don't visit when the sun goes down and grow potatoes and beans and tulips overnight. The junimos talk amongst themselves in their strange, wild language, and agree: this is the one. They're back. The valley recognizes its own, even when they've left for a generation. The farmers have come home.

Things change fast in the valley. The community center, empty and decrepit for so many years, is rejuvenated. (Lewis says it was abandoned only a few weeks after the farmer's grandfather left. Strange coincidence, he says, that it both came and went with the farmer's family.) The mines and the quarry, similarly abandoned, are explored for the first time in ages. The town becomes cleaner, brighter, more vibrant, happier.

And it is happier. Not just the environment, but the people. It's the talk of the town for weeks when Haley does her first closet purge. Leah's art show in the town square is a huge success. Shane's smiling for the first time since he moved to the valley. All of them, when asked, say it's all thanks to the farmer.

People love to ask why Lewis didn't fix the community center on his own. Why Willy never repaired the boat to ginger island. Why Abigail or Marlon never went down to fix the elevator in the mines, or why Clint didn't fix the minecarts.

But isn't it so much more interesting to ask how those things were there in the first place? How they got so broken down? If the stories the townspeople tell are true, the valley was once a beautiful place, flourishing and full of life; why did that change? When did it change?

Was it when the farmer's grandfather, the locus of the valley, its chosen representative, left town?

And if so, what happens when the farmer comes back?

#lich says shit #stardew valley #stardew farmer #sdv #my writing #Hope y'all enjoyed!#I'm thinking about developing this into. Like. An actual Fan Fiction. Still sort of short-form but like with more detail?#LMK if you'd be interested to see that! Also if you want to be tagged in future installations of this please just let me know :)#I'm super into this version of the farmer as like. Blessed and cryptic child of the valley with all the strange behavior that entails #If i DO write a more in-depth version of this it'll be from the perspective of someone in town #maybe Leah? She seems like she'd be the one to notice the farmer being Odd. Either that or I'll do it from the perspective of multiple--#--different people to get their unique insights and stuff #I'd also want to dig into like #The family history of the farmer. And what that's like.#Because like why did grandpa leave?#He clearly loved the valley #So why didn't he stay?#Why did he give the deed to his grandchild and not his literal child?#And is it a coincidence that everything in the valley went downhill when he left?#I don't think so.

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misspoetree · 1 year

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And adding this text post meme again because it's a very important fact:

KinnPorsche + Text Posts: Arm Edition

[Themed Editions: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | ?]

[Episode Editions]

#Good Lord I'd totally forgotten about this unfinished post in my drafts!#Arm obviously deserves his own character edition #I mean he is as smart as he is kind #he is as slutty as he is silly #his presence puts people (Tankhun) at ease and he's always ready to help any friend in need #so...what's not to love?#he's the friend and colleague everyone secretly yearns for in their life #so hope you enjoy! 😁#kinnporsche the series #kinnporsche + text post #kinnporsche arm #text post meme #because the kinnporsche brain rot is still real #thai bl #kinnporsche meme #bas asavapatr

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royalarchivist · 7 months

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Quackity: Oh, it's gonna be so cool to see how this develops. I'm excited, I'm gonna try my best. I'm not the greatest at Minecraft whatsoever, I did nerf Green Team a little bit by accident on the second day. My bad! But, you know, I'm so ready to just grind out and see what we can do, and I just–

I wish everyone saw it with the same amount of, like, kind of enthusiasm. I think all of this and all the development and all the potential arcs, that's going to fcking allow for something absolutely incredible.

And if anyone ends up clipping any of this, something I do want to say is I implore people to view everything with a lot of enthusiasm. No stress, no anxiety, just a lot of enthusiasm. Because, again, this is going to allow for a lot of cool things in the server. Not just now, but in the future, too.

#Quackity #OiBagi #QSMP #QSMP Purgatory #Purgatory #Green Team #Bagi #Alright last one for tonight I got things to do #But Quackity did say ''if anyone clips any of this'' so I wanted to make sure I shared that final message he gave everyone #Because I agree!#I know fandoms can be toxic and people can have POV brainrot #But I hope everyone is still able to remember the reasons why they love QSMP so much #and I hope they're still able to find enjoyment -- if not with the event itself then with your streamers #I personally wasn't a fan of the Debate part of the Election Arc #But I still enjoyed myself because the people I watched made it funny or they poked fun at it or they avoided it completely #Don't be afraid to block people or mute / block tags or anything #And for the love of god stop using Twitter if you can #I've significantly reduced my usage (even though I love seeing fanart -- though many fanartists are moving to Tumblr; which is nice)#I primarily use it to keep up with the update accounts and see what the CCs are up to #But anyways. Take care of yourselves guys. The toxic people can be loud but they are just a very vocal (very annoying) minority #Love and enthusiasm is always the majority. After all; that's why we're here in the first place!

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petricorah · 1 year

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Zukka Week Day 5—Tending Wounds

“You don’t have to do this.”

They were sitting in the ambassador’s quarters. Well, Sokka was sitting. Zuko was kneeling in front of him, wrapping his injured knee with a soft touch that made Sokka's heart sputter in his ribcage.

Sometimes, it was hard to believe. Sokka remembered when this man chased them all the way across the world trying to burn them to ash, and now those same hands were dressing his wounds.

And Zuko had other responsibilities, better things to do than be here, with him. Sokka was fine. His life wasn’t in danger, he was good. It was just an old injury exacerbated by a fight.

“Seriously,” Sokka said. “You really don’t.”

“I know,” Zuko said.

He moved Sokka’s leg to get a better angle, and Sokka sucked in air through his teeth.

“Apologies."

Sokka shook his head, jaw clenched in pain. “Not your fault. It’s just stiff.” He looked away, and quickly strung along his next sentence. “I’ve kinda…been skipping my exercises.”

Zuko glared up.

“They hurt!” he said.

“That’s the point,” Zuko said crossly. “That's how it gets better.”

Zuko’s thumb smoothed over the bandages, and Sokka’s heart lurched in his chest, a blush scraping over his cheeks.

“You really don’t have to do more,” he prattled out. “It feels better, now, really—”

“Sokka,” he said in a stern voice. It was the one Sokka heard in meetings, the one that stopped his advisors completely. “I said I would do it, and I meant it.”

Sokka closed his mouth, and Zuko kept going until he had used up all the bandages.

“Can I…try something?” Zuko said.

Sokka raised an eyebrow. “…What?”

“Ever since you injured your knee the first time, re-injuring it has been easier. But this time seems really…bad. Like, worse than the other times. It’s been a week and a half and you still can barely use it. You’re weaker.”

“Wow,” Sokka said dourly. “That sure is helpful. Keep it up.”

“No,” Zuko said quickly, shaking his head. “That’s not…I always say the wrong thing. Especially around…you, but that’s not what I meant.” He huffed, looking to the side, bangs falling into his eyes. “It’s just…your knee is worse because Katara’s not here, right? When she’s around, she can do her healing bending, but when she’s gone, it has to heal naturally. But I…I can help. I think.”

“Look, I appreciate it, but I don’t think the pain is going to go away if you set my leg on fire.”

“That’s not what I’m going to do!” he snapped. “I practiced,” he said. “Uncle was correct, about bending becoming stronger when you use tactics from other elements. So I went to the Northern Water tribe, and asked the healers to…teach me.”

Sokka snorted, waving his hand. “What, with that classroom of six year olds?”

Zuko stared at him sincerely. “Yes.”

Sokka blinked. Oh.

“It’s not the same as what Katara does, but I think it could still help.”

Sokka narrowed his eyes. “When did you even do that?”

“After you hurt it for the first time.” Zuko wasn’t quite looking at him, making himself busy with straightening the bandages, even though they were already perfect. “But Katara had it handled, so I never mentioned it.”

Sokka stared at him. “Oh,” he said softly. “Sure, then.”

Zuko perked up, a smile flashing across his features. “Good,” he said. “I’ve been practicing on people in the palace and after I host training,” he said. “And I only burned one person.”

“W-what?” Sokka drew his shoulders up.

“I’m joking,” he said blankly.

Sokka used his good leg to kick Zuko on the side, making him chuckle.

“It’ll work,” Zuko said. The eagerness was apparent in his tone. “Heat increases blood flow and helps tense muscles. It will also help with flexibility and pain.”

Sokka could barely hear him explaining it. He was just enamored in how he looked. Whenever Zuko got excited and let his emotions show—which was a rare occurrence—a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, and his eyes shined. He could be surprisingly excitable when he was comfortable around someone.

“…And so if that sounds good, we’ll begin."

“Y-yeah,” he said. “Sounds great.”

Sokka watched Zuko’s hand glow a bright orange, and the light reflecting on his features. Between his fingertips, flickers of flame began to circle in the palm of his hand. The fire was a variety of colors, spinning with a bright rainbow. Even from far away, Sokka could feel the warmth on his face.

“Don’t worry,” he murmured. “These flames won’t hurt. Trust me.”

Sokka slowly nodded, and Zuko placed his hand against his knee.

Relief washed over him instantly, and the pain that had been stabbing into his leg for the past week slowly subsiding in waves as Zuko’s flames warmed him.

Sokka let out a slight gasp, and closed his eyes. He was afraid if he opened them, and saw the care in Zuko's expression, he would completely fall apart.

“There,” Zuko said finally, his voice a low whisper.

Sokka opened one eye.

The flames dissipated from Zuko's hand, the warm lighting vanished. He looked up at him, golden eyes still bright, and Sokka’s entire chest squeezed like Appa was laying on him. “That feel better?”

The pain was distant now, and the throbbing in his knee had faded. Even the swelling had gone down. He was able to bend it back a bit easier, even though it was still a bit stiff.

“Yeah,” he said softly. “Thank you.”

“Any time,” Zuko said. He stood and brushed off his robes. Sokka didn’t miss the small smile on his lips.

“And to think,” Sokka said. “I voted to leave you to freeze to death in the snow.”

Zuko blinked. “…Well, I’m…glad you didn’t do that.”

Sokka laughed. “Me too. For a multitude of reasons. But thank you,” he said. “Again.”

Zuko shrugged and gathered up the rest of the materials. He didn’t let Sokka help, telling him to just rest.

But he hesitated in the doorway.

“About…how this happened—”

“Don’t even worry about it,” Sokka said, shooing him with his hand. “I’m just glad you’re here to help.”

Zuko dipped his head, and left.

Sokka’s knee was still warm from his touch. Zuko had helped, but Sokka wasn’t sure if it was because of the bending or because of…him.

Sokka leaned back, staring at the ceiling.

This was going to be a problem, wasn’t it.

It became a habit over the next few days. Zuko taking care of his bandages, using his hands to reduce his pain, just being there for him. And every time he touched him, it almost sent Sokka into cardiac arrest.

It was a sacrifice he was willing to make.

For the sake of his injury, of course.

Today was no different. They were outside, sitting near the turtle duck pond. Sokka’s mobility had improved enough to where he could use the crutches without much pain. He was starting to get a little stir crazy staying inside, and needed some fresh air, and thought the pond would be a good idea.

Unfortunately, in the grass, Zuko was even closer than normal. He was sitting by his side, his shoulder brushing against Sokka’s, and Sokka was finding it hard to concentrate on anything other than the faint smell of cinders in Zuko’s hair.

“Okay,” Zuko said, and with a flick of his wrist, he stopped the fire. “Is that better?”

He turned to him, and he was close.

Sokka’s face flushed, and he blinked back at him.

“Sokka,” he said. “Is that enough?”

Sokka nodded, snapping back to reality. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, it’s totally great.”

Zuko suddenly frowned, peering at him. “Were the flames really that hot?” he said. “Your face is all red and botchy.”

Sokka’s cheeks flooded, redness no doubt spreading. He was praying Zuko wouldn’t notice the blushing. It wasn’t his fault. Zuko had spent the last half hour touching him, leaning against him. How was he supposed to react?

“I…It’s nothing.”

“Maybe I should stay,” Zuko said. “Make sure you don’t faint.”

“No,” he said. “I just…my room was cold last night. Maybe I’m just a little under the weather.”

Zuko hummed, unconvinced, and reached forward, feeling Sokka’s forehead with the back of his hand.

He was close.

Sokka’s face burned, eyes wide. “Does that…work?” he said in a frail voice. “You being a…fire bender and all.”

“I can still feel,” Zuko said. “Fire benders run hot. We don’t only feel warm things.”

“Yeah,” Sokka said. “You’re definitely hot.”

Zuko raised an eyebrow.

The blood drained from Sokka’s face. “That’s not…”

Shit. Fuck. Why is he looking at me like that?

“I should go.” He shoved up on his bad knee, scrambling to get up. Pain overwhelmed him, and he pushed through it.

“What? Sokka—”

Sokka stepped back on wobbly legs, and pain instantly shot through him. He staggered, suddenly feeling like his brain was spinning inside his skull, as his entire leg screamed in pain, and gave out.

“Sokka!”

Zuko caught him in time, his hands on his shoulders to steady him.

“Are you okay?”

“Mhm,” Sokka said, clutching Zuko’s forearms tightly. He was half bent, his head hung as the world stopped spinning and the pain receded slightly. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. You can just go.”

“Go?” Zuko echoed. “You can barely stand. What is with you?” he said. “You’ve been acting weird all week. The past few days you’ve barely looked me in the eye, and every time I want to do stay and talk, you say no. I thought I was helping, but maybe I should just quit. If it’s not doing good, you should just tell me.”

“N-no,” Sokka said. He wanted to flee, but his crutches were still laying in the grass, and he was pretty sure if Zuko let go of him he would lose his balance and fall flat on his face. Not to mention the blaring pain everywhere. “It helps. It does.”

“Then what is it?” Zuko said.

Sokka didn’t answer. How could he say it? That he loved him, and it was impossible to be near him without wanting to blurt out that friendship-ruining fact?

Zuko glanced away, fringe hiding his face. He let go of him, and Sokka almost collapsed, but managed to hobble on one foot.

“Is this because you got injured because of me?”

Sokka’s blood froze, splintering inside him. What?

Zuko’s flames flickered in his hand. “I knew it.”

“No,” he whispered out. “Of course not. No. Zuko, I don’t regret that. It’s not your fault people tried to assassinate you!”

Zuko shook his head. “I knew this was a mistake. I didn’t want you to get hurt for me. You shouldn’t have done that. You should have just left—”

“I wasn’t going to leave you!” Sokka shouted. His foot was barely on the ground, just enough to steady him, but the pain in his knee was nothing compared to the panic stirring in his chest. “I’m glad I was there. I made a choice. And I would make it again, even if it meant I wasn’t standing here right now at all.”

Zuko’s head jerked back, shock rolling across his expression.

“I-is that why you’ve been helping me?” Sokka’s voice broke. ��You just feel guilty?”

“Of course not,” Zuko snapped. He stepped forward angrily, the flames singing the grass under his feet. “I did it because I care about you, and I don’t like seeing you in pain. How could you think that?”

“How could you think I should leave you?”

“Because I would rather something happen to me than you, and you just said you were willing to die for me!”

They both glared at each other. Smoke curled from under Zuko’s hands, and Sokka felt like he was going to topple over.

“Can I have my crutches?” he said, unable to think about anything clearly other than he was about to wipe out. “I’m going to fall.”

Zuko blinked, and bent to pick them up, hurrying so quickly he thrust them against Sokka’s chest enough to almost push him over.

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop saying that,” he said softly. “I’m not so injured I can’t still beat the crap out of you. I told you this wasn’t your fault, and I meant it.”

Sokka wasn’t sure if he saw glassy tears in Zuko’s eyes, or if he was imagining it. The wind pushed his hair in his face, and for a long moment, Zuko didn’t move.

“So it sounds like we’re even,” Sokka said slowly. “We both don’t want to see the other hurt. So can we just…move on from this already?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah.” He shook his head. “Come on, I’ll help you back.”

They walked slowly, Zuko's guiding hand on his back to make sure he didn’t slip.

“If I say this isn’t necessary, is that going to stop you?” Sokka said. He was trying to inject some sense of normalcy into this conversation.

“Not in the slightest,” Zuko said roughly. “...Have you been doing the exercises?”

“Yes,” he said. “Mostly. I mean…”

Zuko glared at him, fire blazing in his eyes, and Sokka held back a laugh, amusement in his eyes.

“It’s really hard to find you threatening when you’re telling me to take care of myself.”

Zuko grumbled under his breath. “Just shut up and do them.”

They stopped at his door, and Zuko let go.

“Can you make it to your bed alright?”

“Yeah,” Sokka said.

Zuko moved to leave.

“Wait!"

Zuko looked back at him, cocking his head.

“To be honest,” Sokka said slowly. “I didn’t even get it a second thought. I haven’t thought about it all week. I mean, you’ve risked your life for me countless times. We’ve been through way worse situations together, and the only reason I got injured at all was because my knee is prone to getting hurt. So I haven’t been thinking about it. And I didn’t mean to be distant. It’s just…the only thing I’ve been thinking about all week is…”

Zuko was staring at him expectantly, and Sokka felt the blush creep up on his cheeks again.

“Uh…”

Shit, he was losing his nerve. He just had to say it. Blurt it out. If Zuko rejected him, he could say he got brain damage from the fight. He just had to say it.

“What?” Zuko said.

“I’ve just been thinking about…you.” He swallowed. “And how…close you are to me.”

Zuko’s brow furrowed. “Oh,” he said. He took a clear step back, withdrawing completely. The spot where he was touching his back felt cold as he let go. “Okay—”

“No, it’s not a bad thing,” he said quickly. “It’s good. I like it. When you’re close to me.” He stared helplessly, Zuko’s blank face staring back at him. “You’re…hot,” he blurted out.

“If you’re cold, I can have the attendants bring more blankets—”

“No! You’re not…warm, you’re just.” His eyes flicked back and forth, but Zuko wasn't helping this torture at all. “I like spending time with you.”

“You’ve been distant because you…like spending time with me?”

“Yes?”

Zuko squinted. “Okay. I’m going to let you…get some rest.” He turned, and started to walk down the hallway.

“I love you!”

Zuko stopped in his tracks, his back toward Sokka.

Sokka stiffened.

“I…”

“What did you just say?” Zuko said, still facing away from him.

“IthinkIhaveaconcussion.”

“…No,” Zuko said, turning slowly. “You just said you loved me.”

Sokka gulped. He’d gotten pretty good at reading Zuko’s features. He knew his pouty glare from his annoyed one. He knew when Zuko was truly angry, and when he was just low on sleep, and when you should run the hell away. But now, Zuko’s expression was unreadable.

“Is that…one of your jokes?”

Sokka’s shoulders dropped against the crutches. He let out a long breath. “No. It’s not.”

“You…love me?”

Sokka’s skin pricked, and he was starting to feel faint. Why couldn’t he ever just keep his mouth shut? He should have just held his damn tongue—

“I love you, too.”

“W-what?”

“I love you, Sokka.”

“You love me,” he repeated. The grin spread across his face. “You love me back?”

“Yes,” Zuko said. “I do.”

“You love me. You love me—”

He repeated it until Zuko closed the gap between them, hugging him in a warm embrace, and almost knocked them both down.

Sokka laughed, almost tripping up on the crutches.

“I can’t hold you back like this—”

But Zuko just smiled, hugging him tighter, then kissed him.

Sokka let go of the crutches, and pulled him closer.

He was sure if he fell, Zuko would catch him.

----

@zukkaweek

this was my first time writing something a tiny bit longer. I hope people enjoy!

#this was all written today as i desperately tried to do it on time #i feel like it would do it more justice with more time for description pacing etc but i wanted to actually do something the correct day #i hope people still enjoy!#zukka #myfic #zukkaweek #zukka fic

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