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unnamedelement · 3 years ago

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Rings of Power ‘Review,’ featuring wood-elves and gender

I’m writing this for two reasons. Firstly, processing things in writing sometimes lets me stop obsessively thinking about them and actually get on with my life, which has been a major issue for me this past week. Second, people keep asking me what I think of the show and who I think The Stranger is (which I won’t actually be talking about here, but short answer is one of the Istari, probably Gandalf, which doesn’t make canonical/historical sense but does make narrative sense, though the Blue Wizards make historical/timeline sense, based on drafts/notes – phew!). Anyway, it is exhausting and anxiety-provoking to give the same thoughts to people across different parts of my life repeatedly, so I am putting it all in one place, though I would not count on this every week. So. Transitioning to the essay, which will be heavily footnoted, just like the Professor himself. I am not sorry.

Thoughts on Rings of Power: Episodes 1 and 2

Rings of Power (RoP) has proved to be a different story than most of us could have guessed, given the scant scaffolding provided on the First and Second Ages in the The Hobbit (TH), The Lord of the Rings (LotR), and the LotR Appendices, those sources show-creators actually have access to directly use. (Admittedly, info on the Second Age anywhere is sparse, per not only Tolkien’s own admission in Letters but fans’ own scouring of the texts and drafts for scraps of lore.) In this post, I want to talk about some of the things I loved and did not love about the first two episodes of this particular adaptation. I will try not to get super into the weeds with lore here, because most people who follow me in these spaces already understand how this adaptation changed major plot, character history, and historical points. Instead, I want to talk about (a) my personal experiences with RoP, including (i) pre-watching anxieties and beliefs and (ii) watching- and fandom-related joys; and (b) my ongoing and developing thoughts about (i) Silvan and Nandorin representation in the context of intra-elven relations in the larger legendarium and (ii) concepts of gender reflected in RoP design choices.

Personal Experience

First, I want to talk about how I prepared for this adaptation, which is that I acknowledged it, ignored it, and then went feral with excitement (and debilitating anxiety) about it, all within the course of a one-year period. Anyone who knows me in fandom probably knows that–when I have enough energy to consistently engage–I try very hard to make the Tolkien world a welcoming place for people. As someone who was a child/teen in online Tolkien fandom as Peter Jackson’s adaptations were coming out (yes, I discovered fanfiction perhaps way too early), I was quite traumatized by some older, lore-heavy fans who vehemently corrected–and sometimes even subtly mocked–me as I was working my way through the appendices, the Silmarillion, and Unfinished Tales. I am therefore very passionate about civility (within reason–I draw the line at supremacist nonsense) in fandom spaces. Ultimately, I never want rejection or belittling–subtle or outright–to be how people experience Tolkien fandom, or even scholarship: gatekeeping helps no one. (Insert boost for the new blog @tolkienfandomagainstgatekeeping!).

Still, while I did preach kindness and encouraged welcoming behavior in the year preceding the release, I nevertheless experienced a lot of change-related anxiety as a neurodivergent person preparing for the potential fandom-related change bound to happen in online Tolkien communities as we processed the new show; dealt with some people’s real (and, admittedly, sometimes scary) rage regarding–and therefore their disingenuous attempts to derail the success of the show due to–race and white supremacy; and, finally, prepared for the influx of fans to the open system of online fandom. I had to take a break from actively engaging with fandom because I could not handle the constant RoP-related emotional stimulus from all sides. However, when I saw the final RoP trailer, their sweeping vision of Middle-earth blew me away–my anxiety morphed into excitement by the end of those three minutes. I did not sleep the night before it came out, and I had to take off work the days after to emotionally recover from it.[1] (I unfortunately do not make the rules for how, when, and why my brain is overstimulated.)

Appreciated Moments

At this point, I will transition to a few things that I absolutely loved. This section is less critical and lore-heavy than the following ones, but we will start with a pseudo-lore moment I loved: the symbolism of the opening scene with Galadriel and the other children. While the show cannot talk about the Kinslayings–which is hugely problematic to me from an elven relations and politics perspective (more on that later)–this scene is very clearly an allusion to the Kinslaying at Alqualondë and the burning of the Telerin swan boats.[2] Whether these children who are harassing Galadriel are actually her Feanorian cousins or not, we cannot guess for certain, as we don’t have a clear birthdate for most of the younger Finweans.[3] (Further, if we think about it too hard, things get complicated and confusing very quickly.)[4] Still, it was a nice little homage to the parts of history the show is not allowed to talk about–I teared up due to the beauty of the setting combined with the lore it evoked, which is a very near and dear part of the legendarium to me. That being said, I think that opening scene made some of the lore choices that followed hurt all the more for those of us who did immediately understand the reference, as it alluded to an imminent complexity and nuance that, for me, the show ultimately did not–and, frankly, cannot–deliver. Still, I liked it. Mostly.

Next, I appreciated moments of the dwarven representation, and every single moment of the dwarven design. Having been introduced to LotR prior to Peter Jackson’s (PJ’s) adaptation, I latched onto a few characters at a young age and, for me–for some reason–that was Legolas and Gimli. Gimli in the books is rational yet passionate but, more than anything, he is silvertongued and poetic. As much as I love John Rhys-Davies’ performance in the PJ films, the writers made some mistakes in their choices regarding his role as, almost entirely, comic relief. The representation in the dwarves of Khazad-dum/Moria in this adaptation goes some way in repairing the lasting image of dwarves that took hold in fan communities following the PJ films. I found the opening scene–in which the dwarves challenged Elrond to a…show of strength?–a little hard to follow and a bit strange and othering given the show is told almost entirely from an elven point of view thus far, but I was overall pleased. I found Durin III and Disa likable, and the scene at the kitchen table went a long way to endearing Elrond’s character in this adaptation to me, while cementing Disa as an excellent original character in her own right. Overall, the design team blew me away with their conception of Khazad-dum. The ferns hanging off the side of the cliff inside the entrance illogically moved me to tears, and the dwarven ingenuity represented by the pulley-based elevator system felt very true to how I have always imagined dwarves. My only hope is that Celebrimbor and Narvi have some screentime. Elrond can't have everything.

Finally, like almost everyone, I enjoyed the Harfoots. [5] While I have heard a lot of commentary about how “hobbits weren’t supposed to be involved in the major events of the Second Age!!”, I also think it’s worth reminding the world that (a) hobbit-like folk were living in the Vales of Anduin by the Third Age, and it would be absolutely bonkers to think they never interacted with or minorly influenced characters who do have a “documented” role if they had been out and about earlier; (b) almost everything Tolkien wrote about history is written “within” his Secondary World, i.e., by one of the characters he imagined kept historical records and, thus, there is likely inherent narrative bias to what we do “know” about the Second Age; and (c) wood-elves were mostly only mentioned in the context of the Second Age in relation to Sindarin and Noldorin migration and expansion, but no one is complaining about Arondir. (Okay, they are, but they’re complaining about him for racist reasons, not simply because wood-elves exist in this telling.)

Oh, and the music! I am not the right person to talk about the music, but that–combined with the gorgeous design and setting–will keep me coming back for the rest of the season, regardless of what happens.

Nandorin-Silvan Elves, Intra-elven Relations, and the Related Significance of Omitted Elven History

Now, on to the critique. Let me start by saying: this section is heavily influenced by the utter bewilderment I have felt over the past year trying to understand how a show can be set in the Second Age without rights to most of the material of the First. What is the point in making a show when you cannot actually adapt the material realistically? While that is not the point of this section, it is hard for me to disentangle, so it feels only right to mention it.

Since I started writing this review, I came across @itariilles own excellent review on elves in the first two episodes of RoP. I recommend reading her piece as I will not be rehashing the points she made here regarding Galadriel’s character and motivation(s) or the complexity of casting an actor of color as a Silvan elf, with particular attention to her sections “Galadriel’s Motivations” and “Fantasy Racism Against Elves.” To understand more where some of the frustrations expressed by Itariiles, myself, and many other fans come from, I would further, and selfishly perhaps, recommend reading the section Consequences of Resettlement: The “Sindarizing” of the “Wild,” “Lesser” Elves by the Sindarin Princes and Noldorin Exiles of Beleriand in my linked paper here. Because I cannot write this section without at least mentioning elven ethnicity and lore, I do suggest refreshing your brain if you are not familiar with elven cultural groups across the Ages; and then proceed while keeping in mind the following: “Within Tolkien’s elven worlds, these [elven] hierarchies are governed by (a) proximity to Aman and the Valar and, within Middle-earth, (b) proximity to the Noldor, with the Nandor and then the Avari being most distant. Characteristic phrases used to describe the Silvan and Avari are ‘lesser Elves,’ ‘lesser Silvan race,’ ‘wild,’ ‘savage,’ ‘rude and rustic,’ and ‘more dangerous, less wise’” (...me, 2021). [6]

Itariiiles’ does an excellent job outlining why it is odd Silvan elves would be reporting to the High King Gil-galad at this point in Second Age history. She additionally reviews the complexity of the showrunners placing the Tirharad (the human people we see in the Southlands parts of the episode) under Elven dominion. She notes, “A line said by a Silvan soldier reasoning their station over the men of Tirharad as ‘descendants of those who served Morgoth' is uncomfortable as it plays into the established trope of South/Eastern men being inherently evil which links into Orientalist ideas of the East being perceived as fundamentally Other.” This is something I want to take a step further. In this adapted world in which, presumably, Silvan elves answer to the “higher” Noldor, what does it mean that the Silvan folk are being used to carry out what essentially amounts to Noldorin occupation of Mannish lands?

I have a few issues with this, and it has taken me a while to really pinpoint why, and I’m still not quite there on expressing it and do not expect to be until I have more data from the show. Still, the first thing that bothers me about this setup is that–in this adapted universe–the Silvans reporting to the High Noldor creates unique issues across multiple contexts:

If we are fans of the traditional legendarium, this choice in the adaptation puts the Silvan in an even more more subservient context that Tolkien’s explicit and implicit language originally placed them (which is highly impressive); and

It tells us that within the adapted universe, the Noldor use another ethnic group–one traditionally ranked less highly–to carry out suppression and oversight of a third ethnic group.

This approach has not been uncommon in colonial and neocolonial history and, certainly, utilizing another group of people to establish and maintain strategic governmental and military control is part and parcel of imperialism. While all elves–in the ethnic hierarchy of Middle-earth–may be ranked higher than Men (due to being valued as firstborn by Illuvatar) and, thus, this oppression is not exactly lateral, it is still using one group of people to manage another, while the person in charge essentially handles war, decisions, and paperwork elsewhere.

Of course, all of this whining and speculating could be blown out of the water by something I could never have expected in this RoP universe as the episodes progress–in that they go “on record” changing the history of these ethnic and racial groups, or they reveal that the Noldor are already integrated with the Silvan at this point–but my hopes are not high. Itariiiles’ point–one also made by a speaker on the RoP reaction panel at Oxonmoot, as well (@fernstrike)–still is not insignificant: What does it mean that the only actor of color cast as an elf thus far is a Silvan reporting to the Noldor, while all the Noldor we have seen–in the first two episodes, at least–are white? We cannot escape the potential impact, as choices in the Secondary World/in-universe are inherently consumed by those of us in this Primary World we share.

My next issue with the flattening of elven history and culture centers on the Sindar, part of the Teleri group to which the Silvan also belong. As @skyeventide asked in her reaction thread (featuring my highly articulate response):

So then: where are the Sindar at this time? And the “Sindarin Princes of the Silvan Elves”? Given the fact that Durin III is alive and Eregion and Celebrimbor aren’t wasted or strung up, respectively, we can guess a timeframe of a few hundred years for the show, during which the Sindar are certainly out and about, depending on the draft/source (Celeborn in Lindon, Oropher & co. already settling with the Silvan across the mountains). And it is not as if the Sindar are forbidden by copyright to be discussed: Though Doriath is destroyed by the Second Age, it and Thingol are still discussed in the LotR appendices; there is a paragraph exclusively dedicated to how the Sindar migrated and integrated with Silvans in the woods during the time Gil-galad is High King [7]; and Nimrodel’s story and associated Sindarin and Noldorin woes are mentioned in LotR. Certainly it is not unreasonable that this is a storyline that will emerge throughout the season (or the next four, which could ostensibly cover thousands of years), but considering the placement of Silvans beneath Gil-galad at this time, I am wary. Should Thranduil emerge (as Oropher is not mentioned in LotR or the Appendices)–or Amroth or Celeborn (who all also have messy histories across various versions and drafts)–what shall happen? Will the Sindar be placed under the High King’s jurisdiction? Will the Silvans who are not already, apparently, ruled by Gil-galad be lumped in with them, under the High elves, as well?[8]

I can only hope there will be some thoughtful delineation of groups and meaningful and realistic group dynamics based on Elven history and–gasp–even informed by modern political science, social psychology, sociology, or migration studies. Even if the “why” is not immediately apparent in the show, interested viewers can easily look up the backstory and, thus, the show avoids unintentionally rewriting cultural histories (which, real history or not, is tiresome), a constant risk in stories with colonial and neocolonial settings/actors. Ultimately, my biggest concern as a person who thinks way too much about Elven ethnic hierarchy and social stratification is that instead of using the actual history of elven migration, conflict, and the long-lasting effects of the Kinslayings to explain the creation of differing elven realms, the very same effect will be attempted in another manner, i.e., by pinning a split from the Noldor as a personal flaw or choice of some yet unknown Telerin leader, or by having Silvans rebel against Gil-galad’s leadership and thereafter align themselves with certain Noldorin-type leaders (e.g., Galadriel and Celeborn) or Sindarin leaders with skeptical attitudes toward all things High Elven (e.g., Oropher Thranduil).[9] I can see these approaches making narrative sense based on some things that have already been set up in the first two episodes. However, I am still giving myself permission to be skeptical about it and to also just… not particularly like it.

Now, of course, all of this relates to that omitted Elven history, one genre of omission more glaring than all the rest: the flight of the Noldor, the Oath of Fëanor, and the three Kinslayings that followed. The inability of showrunners to incorporate, or even really reference, these events surrounding the Silmarils is disappointing. War is complicated and, to most sides, generally unjust for one reason or another, which is certainly something viewers can relate to. Furthermore, flawed characters are interesting, even if they are flawed because they participated in or failed to actively oppose actions most would now consider unthinkable. Still, the political intrigue and narrative arcs that facilitate this kind of in-universe justification of atrocity in fictional worlds has long been a compelling storyline in myth, religion, and fiction alike. Even Galadriel’s character could be complicated by acknowledging this complex history, or–given copyright limitations–at least creating some alternative scenario that evokes the same historical complexity that the entirety of the First Age embodies, pitting elf against elf against man against elf, all of which barely pales in comparison to The War of Wrath. Galadriel’s behavior in “The Noldor in Beleriand” chapter of the Silmarillion during her conversation with Melian of Doriath (about why the Noldor returned from Aman) lays the groundwork for the type of high political drama this show could evoke, regardless of copyright.[10]

Ultimately, while Tolkien is well-loved by many due to his skill–intentional or not–in creating morally ambiguous characters, perhaps the showrunners are not prepared to address such complexity on screen. As those of us in the Silmarillion fandom know, discussing the human–elf?–rights violations at Alqualondë, Doriath, and Sirion can be tetchy [11], and inviting such tension to a show in the midst of the political uproar surrounding its very existence may have been too much to expect. However, because so much of elven history and hierarchy is situated within splits and migrations directly associated with the story of the Silmarils, it does feel that we are being cheated–especially fans of the Telerin Sindar and Silvan–of the complex story the elves deserve.

This Section Was Supposed to Be: Gender in the Primary and Secondary Worlds of the Original Legendarium and the RoP Adaptation

In this section, I meant to define Primary and Secondary Worlds according to Tolkien’s definitions in “On Fairy Stories,” weave a pretty little tale, and then right-left-punch you with the historical, modern, and in-universe implications of the weird decisions the show made about women.[12] While there is a lot to be said about the racial and ethnic implications of costuming decisions, this post was going to specifically focus on gender, clothing, and gender-related roles in those first two episodes.[13] I was also going to discuss gender-related costuming and cultural-cult-religious implications in some of the other imagery here. (Rest assured, I am certain I am not the first person who did a double-take at that boat scene.) However…. I am tired, I have a project for my research supervisor due tomorrow, and I am not going to let something I love (Tolkien) give me a mental breakdown once again, so I am abandoning that original plan. Instead of a well-crafted section, allow me to ramble at you about gender and, canonically, why I think the elven women in Lindon are ridiculously designed.

Now.

Tolkien and his legendarium were never the height of gender equality and progressivism, but they were also not exactly the worst, if we ignore the fact that he didn’t particularly care for short-haired women wearing pants (Letters) and also that he thought–at least at one point–that elven woman would be pregnant (and thus secluded from larger society??) for 100 years (Nature of Middle-earth, 2021). (Yeah, that’s absolutely bonkers, I know.) However, the text most fans have relied on for years–and which is not directly contradicted in NoME–is “Laws and Customs of the Eldar,” or LaCE in fan parlance.[14] LaCE fairly explicitly describes the similarities and differences between elven men (neri in Quenya) and women (nissi in Quenya), as reported by an unknown Mannish loremaster. Tolkien (said loremaster) writes:

In all such things, not concerned with the bringing forth of children, the neri and nissi (that is, the men and women) of the Eldar are equal - unless it be in this (as they themselves say) that for the nissi the making of things new is for the most part shown in the forming of their children, so that invention and change is otherwise mostly brought about by the neri. There are, however, no matters which among the Eldar only a ner can think or do, or others with which only a nis is concerned. There are indeed some differences between the natural inclinations of neri and nissi, and other differences that have been established by custom (varying in place and in time, and in the several races of the Eldar). For instance, the arts of healing, and all that touches on the care of the body, are among all the Eldar most practised by the nissi; whereas it was the elven-men who bore arms at need. And the Eldar deemed that the dealing of death, even when lawful or under necessity, diminished the power of healing, and that the virtue of the nissi in this matter was due rather to their abstaining from hunting or war than to any special power that went with their womanhood. Indeed in dire straits or desperate defence, the nissi fought valiantly, and there was less difference in strength and speed between elven-men and elven-women that had not borne child than is seen among mortals. On the other hand many elven-men were great healers and skilled in the lore of living bodies, though such men abstained from hunting, and went not to war until the last need.

As for other matters, we may speak of the customs of the Noldor (of whom most is known in Middle-earth). Among the Noldor it may be seen that the making of bread is done mostly by women; and the making of the lembas is by ancient law reserved to them. Yet the cooking and preparing of other food is generally a task and pleasure of men. The nissi are more often skilled in the tending of fields and gardens, in playing upon instruments of music, and in the spinning, weaving, fashioning, and adornment of all threads and cloths; and in matters of lore they love most the histories of the Eldar and of the houses of the Noldor; and all matters of kinship and descent are held by them in memory. But the neri are more skilled as smiths and wrights, as carvers of wood and stone, and as jewellers. It is they for the most part who compose musics and make the instruments, or devise new ones; they are the chief poets and students of languages and inventors of words. Many of them delight in forestry and in the lore of the wild, seeking the friendship of all things that grow or live there in freedom. But all these things, and other matters of labour and play, or of deeper knowledge concerning being and the life of the World, may at different times be pursued by any among the Noldor, be they neri or nissi.

(Morgoth’s Ring, HoME 10).

So then, why does elven gender in RoP weird me out a little bit, Galadriel–and her complicated characterization–notwithstanding? (And, yes, it was necessary to include the full quote to only point out how much more ridiculous what follows is.)

This:

Why are all the attendants female? And why are they all dressed like this in the background? Where are the rest of the women? Are they locked away, pregnant? Did we take NoME that seriously?

Bizarre.

Conclusion

In the big scheme of things, I suppose I was mostly pleasantly surprised. It was entertaining to watch for the scenery, settings, and music; and I was moved to tears by some of the beautiful cinematography–I’ll continue to be giddy about the scenery and design whether I want to be or not. I also think it is very important that BIPOC were included in casting. However, I am not going to hold out on feeling the story of the Second Age was done justice. I will–forever and always–always be hung up on Silvan representation.[15] But, unless something truly egregious happens, for now I am okay with a mediocre and mildly frustrating storyline.

FOOTNOTES

I have still not recovered, so this will be a long 1.5 months.

Not to mention the boats she will one day have in her own realm, in Lothlorien.

As Sky Eventide notes in her reaction thread on Twitter, the scene even includes one red-headed child, which may be harkening to Maedhros, though Amrod or Amras might be more realistic given I would expect Maedhros to be the ringleader of the band, were the red-headed child meant to be him.

See Itariilles’ piece and my own linked paper for more on this. It is confusing to think about in the show context because while Galadriel thinks the kinslaying are unfortunate and does not take an oath like Feanor and colleagues, she doesn’t think her Feanorian cousins are crazy for wanting to return to Middle-earth, though her motivations to return are different (yay colonialism). Again, see links.

Though an Irish Times article provides an interesting critique that, as an American many generations removed from Ireland, I would never have noticed. As someone who often complains about fandom’s jokes about wood-elf and Silvan culture/language as a stand-in for less cultured “hick” accents and cultures, the linked article really moved me and put these European-based English choices into perspective for me. And it also spoke to the odd feeling I got as I noticed that while watching, once again, an adaptation used different accents that are cultural- and class-marked in the ‘real world’ to sort of delineate place in Middle-earth.

And yes, some of this quoted language comes from material the show has explicit access to.

Keep in mind, this is only ONE version of Sindarin migration. Tolkien wrote more on this across his lifetime that is not reflected in the Appendices as published. See my linked paper for more on this.

Dare I even ask if the show plans to somehow reference a group of elves like the Avari, given the showrunners’ interest in the Southlands thus far? I don’t know if my poor heart could handle the stress…

Which conveniently echoes Oropher’s choice during part of the Last Alliance that left his people wildly diminished…

A political intrigue which we have seen snippets of, perhaps, with Elrond’s character–it’s just not a tension and positioning I can, yet, easily follow. I don’t ‘get’ this world well enough yet to do so.

I, too, have been guilty of this, as someone who spends way too much time thinking about the Sindar. While I am still very much opposed to atrocity crimes in our real world–obviously, it’s literally my job–I have come to see the issues of the Silmarils as more complex than I once did, taking into account cultural and political motivations for character behavior. (Though that has not stopped me from writing Sindarin accounts of the Kinslaying at Sirion to balance things out, “victors write history” and all that.) I have some patient acquaintances to thank for helping me develop a more complex view on Feanorian behavior in the First Age.

Do not judge me. I know nothing about boxing terms and I made that up.

Again, please read Itariiles’ piece (specifically the section “Neoclassical Aesthetic Given to the Noldor and its Unfortunate Implications”).

And, if you want to get really particular, one of the two drafts of LaCE is titled: “OF THE LAWS AND CUSTOMS AMONG THE ELDAR PERTAINING TO MARRIAGE AND OTHER MATTERS RELATED THERETO: TOGETHER WITH THE STATUTE OF FINWE AND MIRIEL AND THE DEBATE OF THE VALAR AT ITS MAKING”...

And yes. I have lived through PJ’s TH. I will survive it again.

Acknowledgements: Thanks to my acquaintances from the Silmarillion Writers’ Guild/Dreamwidth for encouraging me to finish writing this after I became discouraged. And thanks to my new acquaintances at Alliance of Arda for being interested in what I have to say. I would have just stewed in my anxiety without outside prompting to write this silly little thing that I actually really wanted to write.

#rings of power #long post #tolkien #lord of the rings #silmarillion #commentary and analysis

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spaceytoxinz · 2 years ago

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Intro post cause I forgot to make one lmfao

DNI:

proshippers

zoos/"MAPs"

terfs

neo-nazis/white supremacists (idk why the last 2 would even be on Tumblr lmao)

ZIONISTS

Fujoshis. Listen man idc what you read just don't come up to me and say you ship two random men you saw on the street, jfc.

People who genuinely think femboy milk memes are funny jfc you all make me uncomfortable (doesn't count if you're actually a feminine guy, but even then I hate those jokes they're just annoying)

Same with people who sexualize age/pet regression, get out of here actually.

ALL OF MY ACCOUNTS ARE 15+, SORRY MIDDLE SCHOOLERS

Vinny / 19 / cringe enthusiast, you cannot possibly be more cringe than me I think / 🇧🇿🇬🇹🇺🇲 / autism + ADHD combo ough / TUMBLR SEXYMAN ENTHUSIAST GRAHHH / feminine transguy / emo since 2010 this is a curse

I make art n shit lmao, I only really post my drawings though. I don't post consistently either, I'm usually more active on Instagram

I'm more known for fanart, I'm a multi fandom artist who has too many followers from different places and accidentally make people upset cause I draw one thing and then move on to a different fandom LMFOAO. But usually I never join new fandoms, I stick around the old ones and let them circulate. I'm a fandom veteran despite being in elementary for most of them

I ALSO WORK ON MY OWN COMIC IDEAS TEE HEE. PLEASE ASK ME ABOUT MY OCS MAKING HEADCANONS FOR ALREADY EXISTING CHARACTERS IS KINDA HARD FOR ME GRAHHHH 💣💣🔥💣💣🧨💥💥🦅🦅🚨🚨🗣️🗣️🗣️🦅🗣️🦅🦅🔥💣💣

Fandoms in question:

FNAF (usually just rebornicas old night guard designs LMAO I hate them as a person now)

DHMIS

Tankmen/ somewhat fnf??? Mostly tankmen and occasionally the Garcello mod

I have a fursona

Scott Pilgrim Vs. The World

The Aikuro Mikisugi fandom (there's only like 2 people lmfao. I like kill la kill but both the show and it's fandom has its issues man.)

JTHM/ invader zim. It's been a long ass time since I returned to these but they're still there

Theres other fandoms I used to be part of but either I just refuse to acknowledge them or just haven't returned to them in years. I still know shit about it though. I was extremely unsupervised on the internet since age 4.

THIS IS A SAFE SPACE FOR: LGBTQ+, self shippers/self insert people, uhh and people who are part of fandoms that fall under cringe culture I guess, oh and people who use neopronouns and MOGAI labels I think that's the term.

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kookieskiwi · 4 years ago

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𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠

Pairing: Shuntaro Chishiya x Fem!Reader x Suguru Niragi

Summary: The borderlands were already dark, they made you numb to death so long as you survived. When you become the object of desire for two psychopathic and sociopathic men, one of which is your ex lover, you find it harder to drown out the emotions you’re feeling and demons you're facing. Do you give into the dark desires and madness? But...aren’t we all already mad here?

Warnings: Explicit language, sexual situations, murder, death, manipulation, psychoanalyses, drugs, alcohol, suicidal thoughts and tendencies, more to be added as I write.

Genre: Alice in Borderland, very dark romance, angst, smut, a little fluff if you squint

Rating: Whoever is mature enough to handle the warnings above but recommended to ages 15 and older. DO NOT read if you are triggered by any of the things listed above.

Word Count: 5k

[Taglist] @bonnyskies @mylifeisafxingmess @kasaikawa @mercipourleslivres @dragoneye01 @bubb1ee-gum@nocturne181 @somegirl29 @pajerita19 @ddaenysus @imagine-t-h-a-ttt @queentorresstuff @rebirth-of-destruction @celestiacq @ryreads @beeissleepy

A note from your author — I’m so sorry this took so long, I just got out for summer vacation after an extremely stressful year so I’ll be way more active now. I have decided (with much hype from @imagine-t-h-a-ttt ) to post this in parts so I could give y’all something in appreciation for dealing with me. Expect more soon!! (It might not be AiB exclusively but I will be writing more)

The borderlands was a place where anyone and everyone was alone for themselves when it came to survival. “It’s every man for themselves,” you’d often tell yourself after a game since you walked away, sometimes alone, and others didn’t. After participating in your first heart’s game you learned that, and it was forever engraved into your mind. When you were cruelly taken from the real world you were alone in your room after your nightly shift as an SDF officer. All of a sudden the lights went out whilst you were changing out of your uniform before a shower which you never got to take. Deciding to investigate the outage, you threw your uniform back on and unbuttoned the jacket revealing your black sleeveless undershirt while keeping your green cargo style uniform pants and combat boots on. After grabbing your knife and placing it into your thigh holster, you explored your neighborhood to find that everyone was gone, cars were randomly in the street as if they had been stopped out of nowhere, and you were in fact alone.

“What the fuck is this?” You whispered to yourself as you were pulling out your phone to contact your friends only to see that it was dead. “Fantastic,” you grumbled, rolling your neck to the side to crack it and relieve the tension. Venturing back to your home you thought over what this could possibly be; an evacuation drill? Maybe a nightmare? Were you daydreaming again? No, this was too real and too strange to be any of those things. You needed to get out of this area, inspect and observe other parts of Tokyo to see what was going on. You thought you could find answers before it turned dark since it was only morning so you rushed home to pack a few things before heading out.

While at home, you grabbed your backpack and in it you put; a change of clothes, three water bottles, pain pills and a few snacks as well as your phone and charger in case you could figure out a way for it to work. In a haste you also threw on your side holster which held your nine millimeter handgun and two packs of ammo for extra precautions. After that, you set out on your search of the city. The first thing you thought of was to get in one of those abandoned vehicles however even though they were full of fuel, they wouldn’t start. “So phones and vehicles don’t work, neither does anything powered by electricity. Great.”

With that newly found information, you stepped out of the vehicle and began the long walk across Tokyo. Along the way you inspected stores, homes and even government buildings but found no trace of anyone but yourself. Where did everyone go? It looked so desolate without the constant buzz of people around walking, the tourists, the neon billboards. Everything was...dead. You spent the entire day walking further into the abandoned city which was once lively yet found nothing other than a restaurant with food which you took the liberty to eat at.

Upon nightfall, you were looking for a place to stay when a billboard lit up drawing your attention to it immediately. “This way to the game arena,” it read with an arrow pointing to the left. Turning your head in that direction you saw an area in the distance brightened by lights while everything else was still surrounded in darkness. “Game arena?” You whispered in confusion. Looking around at your surroundings you didn’t see any other lights other than that building which looked to be about three blocks away. You followed the arrows leading you to the designated arena which looked to be a botanical tea garden from a distance. You slowly approached the building while keeping your hand close to the blade strapped on your thigh in case someone or something appeared. As soon as you stepped across the final set of stairs leading up to the entrance, a line of red lasers appeared and quickly turned blue when a sound similar to that of a confirmation resonated in the area. “What is this?”

“It’s the threshold of the arena.” Turning in the direction of the voice, you saw a familiar face step next to you with the same sound chiming at her entry. “Holyn? How did you get here? Are you okay?” You asked quickly before hugging her out of relife, you were more than happy to see a familiar face in this apocalyptic place. She was your childhood best friend, the only reason you hadn’t seen or heard from her in a while was because of both of your working lives.She hugged you back even tighter as she was feeling the same way you were, scared, alone and confused. When the two of you released each other she began explaining everything she knew to you as the both of you started walking into the garden.

“I got here a few days ago and since then, I’ve asked around to see what others know about whatever the hell is going on. No one knows how we got here or what exactly this place is but everyone is made to participate in games of survival. You must participate or you’ll die. After winning a game, you keep the phone you had and you’ll be supplied with a visa. The visa tells you how long you have until you’re out of time here which is why you have to participate in games to renew it before it runs out. You must win each game, there is no other way to survive if you don’t. Do everything it takes so you live and move on. Anything with an electric circuit board or IC chip does not work whereas analog equipment like radios work and so do older vehicles.” She explained quickly as more people came into view. Your mind fogged with all of the new information, it was so much to take in. Then you realized you were just thrown into a game of survival and like she said; you HAD to win to survive. “But-” you had just begun when she silenced you, “pretend you’ve been here and done this. I know you’re confused and probably scared shitless but just pretend.” She instructed as you both entered the arena and quickly added one thing, “I don’t want to continue playing after this, I killed someone Y/n.” But before you could respond she shook her head and you did as she said, silencing yourself and putting on the facade you had mastered over the years.

Upon entry, you almost immediately noticed the two groups of people to the right each containing about six people and consisting of both males and females and the other group of six men. Gauging their distance to and from each other you could conclude the individuals in each group had played together previously and probably had strategies to compete with. As you and Holyn approached the area the others stood around, you glanced down to the table in front of all of you. ‘One per person’ the sign read with approximately twenty phones laid out beside it. Each of you grabbed a random phone and stepped away from the table into your own spaces, you and Holyn sticking closely together. If everything with a circuit board was destroyed, then why did these phones work? In the middle of your questioning the phone screen lit up with the text ‘facial recognition in progress’ before switching to another screen as you looked at the others subtly to see they were looking around as well.

“Registration has closed,” the phone chimed causing each of you to glance down at the small screen. “There are twenty participants. Game: Queen of cards.”

“Rules,” the automated voice said, “After putting on the designated collars you will be divided into two teams, one team will be the Jacks while the other is the Queen of Hearts. Find the Queen of Hearts, take her phone and find the safe zone. If the Queen is not found, it is game over for the Jacks. If the Queen is found, it is game over for her.”

“Does this mean it’s one girl against the rest of us?” Holyn asked with a small crack in her voice, making hit her as a sign to be quiet and do exactly what she told you to do. The two of you grabbed the collars they had laid out on the table, placing them on your neck after close inspection. You needed to seem like you had done this before, the last thing you needed was to be seen as the weaklings or newbies. “It’s a Hearts game, of course that’s what it means. We are supposed to turn on each other and play with others minds. It makes sense.” A male with his arms crossed over his chest said. He had played before, you could tell. The group of men he came with looked like they had been here for a while based on their appearance and calmness towards the situation.

“What do you mean ‘It’s a heart's game’?” A girl who looked to be about seventeen asked. It was obvious she was new to this like you, however, you weren’t letting anyone know that. “When you see the game card, you know the type of game and the difficulty of it. Heart games are those of psychological torture and betrayal where you mess with your opponents or friends minds and emotions. Diamond games are ones of minds and intelligence, often including solving riddles or puzzles. Clubs are by far the safest there is given they are teamwork and unity games. Spade games are physical, they test your stamina and endurance. The number of the cards tell you the difficulty levels; one being the easiest and ten being the hardest.” Another man explained to the girls. You listened attentively while looking down at your phone noticing this was a six of hearts game. Hearts. There had to be a way to do this without betrayal. But before you could think of anything further you were interrupted by the phone which spoke once more.

“The Queen will have one minute to hide before Jack's time starts, but she wont know she is the Queen until Jack's time begins.” The feminine AI voice instructed once more. The girls were to be hunted by the boys and even if they weren’t the Queen the males wouldn’t know. Even if it was a best friend. You noticed when the others came to the same realization as you as one guy started profusely apologizing to a girl who was shaking. This is a game of survival. “So that means-”

“You girls better run.” It came from one of the men and said with a sinister smirk. All the guys had to do to ensure survival was take our phones and get to the undisclosed safezone. However this was more than that. You saw the weapons on a board in the distance and you knew you weren’t the only one who did. Without a second thought, you grabbed Holyn’s hand and ran as fast as you could to get the farthest from any other person, vividly aware of the knife you still had on your thigh. She quickly followed behind although she didn’t have much of a choice with your iron-like grip on her wrist. After running a sufficient distance from the others you ducked into the shrubbery and crawled towards a dark corner to hide from anyone’s sight. She sat across from you as you both tried to calm your breathing while keeping yourselves hidden from anyone who might pass by. The phone chimed again, “Hiding time is up,” the voice said while a new timer appeared on your phone. “Ten minutes,” it read. An alarm sounded throughout the arena echoing off the walls of the indoor tea garden. “The game will now commence,” you heard just before seeing your screen turn balck temporarily with your role on it.

“Thank goodness, I’m a Jack. You are too right?” Holyn asked as you turned off your phone and looked at her with a smile as her voice echoed in your mind, “you must win each game, there’s no other way to survive,” so you pushed away the dread in your chest and replied “me too.”

No. You were the Queen.

The two of you sat still for about five minutes listening to the shouts and screams of the others until you heard sets of footsteps coming in your direction causing the two of you to duck down onto your stomachs out of fear. In the distance you heard a feminine scream echo off the glass walls followed by shattering sounds and more screams of “I’m not her” or “It’s not me” followed by the sounds of struggles. “Come out come out wherever you are,” one of the men closer to you called. You could tell he was near and if you two didn’t move, he'd find you.”We found the safe zone but none of the girls were queens,” you heard one say, “damnit, if they were still alive they could help us,’ the other commented making your stomach drop. “We need to run,” who whispered to Holyn knowing those men would have no issue killing you to survive. “Three minutes remaining,” the time was announced but you could hardly hear it due to your pulse thudding in your ears.

“Now,” you called quietly queuing the both of you to jump up and run, but it didn’t go unnoticed by the men. “There they are!” One shouted followed by the heavy stomps of footsteps behind you as they set in on the chase. “It’s only the two of you, just give us the phone and you’ll live.” You ignored him and kept sprinting towards the place you knew there were weapons. Without another thought you grabbed two weapons and handed one to Holyn to defend yourselves with until she came to the realization you loathed. “You’ve been the queen this entire time!?” She shouted at you as the stomping sound got closer and closer. “I’m sorry! You said to do anything it takes to survive.” You responded with tears clouding your vision. Never in your life would you have thought you’d be choosing your life over your best friend’s, not when the two of you had gone through everything together. “Two minutes remaining,” the voice announced reminding you of your impending fate. Holyn looked at you with emotions you couldn’t decipher, but you saw the way she relaxed even if it was slight. Why was she glad you chose yourself over her?

“Come on, let’s hide.” She said grabbing your hand and this time, she was the one dragging you along. She veered off to the right pulling you behind a fountain and kept running until the two of you collapsed onto the ground. “Remember when you turned fifteen and we decided to sneak out?” she reminisced laying between your legs against your chest. “Yeah, our parents almost killed us, we were grounded for months.” you giggled despite the tears falling from your eyes. As memories of you both flooded your mind you acted without control and shouted, “Over he--” to let the men know your location but you were interrupted by her hand clasping over your mouth tightly to silence you as she yanked you backwards into the shadows. “Shh,” she whispered, calming you while you sobbed into her hand, “I want you to live on for me, okay? Beat this game, we both know you are the only one who can. I know you can. I’ll be helping you from above if I can.” She soothed laying her head on top of yours.

“One minute remaining”

The tears wouldn’t stop as you moved to hug her tightly, never wanting to let go. “I’m so sorry.” you choked out in between gasps for air. Everything was too much, too loud, time was moving too quickly, you heard the men rapidly shouting and searching for you two as you clung to your best friend. Everything seemed to be happening so quickly, the seconds flew by while you were holding the only person you had left before she was to die. “I’m not. Thank you Y/n, I wouldn’t have made it any further anyways, I’m glad I can help you move forward. Don’t let me die in vain.” She told you kissing the top of your head before roughly pushing you off to get you away from her. “Holyn!” You shouted trying to latch back onto her when suddenly the collar around her neck exploded and her blood splattered everywhere. Your eyes and mouth opened wide in shock at what you had just seen. You could feel the specks of blood all over your face and body while you stared at her now decapitated one lying in front of you. She had just died, and it was because of you, because you were selfish and confused all while being scared.

You didn’t know how long you stayed there in total silence until you just collapsed onto the cold, hard floor beneath your feet. The silence was interrupted by your blood curdling scream of pure agony that echoed throughout the enclosed building. Your head came into contact with the ground when you curled over your knees and screamed once again while grabbing at your hair and banging your forehead against the cement. Tears flowed out of both your eyes as you cried out in horror, unable to rid your mind of the events that just occurred. You screamed until your throat was raw and your voice hoarse, you could feel the clumps of hair you pulled out of your scalp as your fingers dug deeper into your skull and worst of all, you knew you were alone now.

For days, you were numb. Five days to be exact. You didn’t do much but sleep, cry, eat, walk aimlessly to a new location and then repeat it all again the next day. You couldn’t shake the immense feeling of guilt you felt when you woke each morning knowing Holyn wouldn’t because of you. It wasn’t until you played your next game, an eight of spades, that you snapped out of the haze your emotions put you in. During the game, you had to climb a tree fast enough to avoid the arrows being shot at you from below as the height the arrows were shot increased each minute as you ascended the tree. You were ahead of the others until one man decided to start pulling at your ankles to hold you back which eventually turned into him trying to make you lose your grip and fall. In the moment he yanked your body down, you almost completely lost your grip on the branch keeping you from falling. It was then that you realized you weren’t going to let Holyn die in vain, you’d survive and push through everything to honor her memory.

After that, the “acquaintances” you made between or during games never meant much to you because in the end, you could only count on and rely on yourself to ensure your survival. You stopped moping around and became the version of yourself you had always wanted to become, the one that allowed you to turn off your emotions and step away from your chaotic thoughts. You now lived for yourself and yourself only, but even then, you never killed anyone intentionally.

A few days passed by but you couldn’t tell exactly how long you had been in this hell hole. You only played games when it was necessary which was only about two days before your visa expired. After overhearing someone in a two of Spades game talk about a place called “the Beach” and the people there “knowing how to get out here,” you started observing those who played games when you didn’t. It only took a few nights to see the connection between the group of people who entered games with tag numbers on their wrists being the ones who walked out. After you played a couple games with people with the tags on their wrists, you were convinced they knew something about the strategy of the games. Lingering in the shadows, you watched the participants of the game walk out of the arena and head down the street while you quietly followed behind. You must’ve walked for five minutes before you noticed where exactly the group was headed; a vehicle. “But I thought..” you whispered to yourself in confusion seeing them jump into the four seater 1970 cadillac while you stood still in your hidden position wondering what they were doing. Upon hearing the ignition of the engine you remembered Holyn telling you only older modeled vehicles were able to work here, but where did they find fuel? Not once had you seen an operable fuel station. “There must be fuel at the beach, there has to be,” you thought to yourself, watching as they drove off which only made you more determined to find this place and get the answers to your questions. And with that thought in mind, you set out on a journey to find this so-called “beach.”

As the vehicle drove further from your sight, you started jogging in order to tail them to their location while still keeping yourself out of sight. You ran for around fifteen minutes before you saw a building in the distance, a building which had power unlike everything else in the city. Seeing the destination, you stopped running and took a while to slow your breathing and regain your energy. “So this is the Beach,” you sighed observing the structure and its surroundings. The building itself seemed to be four stories tall and included a large pool in front where people partied as if they weren’t fighting for their lives everyday. You approached a fence which seemed to outline the perimeter of the area and carefully leaned over it as if you were watching a child’s game. You saw the vast amounts of people give into the pleasures of ignorance while deafening music thrummed in the background, even from the great distance you were, you could slightly feel the vibrations of the bass in your chest.

“Ah who's this?” you heard a cynical voice ask rhetorically from behind you. At the sudden and unexpected presence you jumped, turning around and swinging your fist to punch whoever it was out of instinct. When your right hand came in contact with a face your left twisted to grab the knife you still carried on your thigh in a holster. Just as you grasped ahold of the handle one of the two people delivered a knockout-blow to the side of your head just behind your temple which caused you to instantly lose consciousness.

When you awoke you were sitting in a chair with your hands tied loosely behind your back onto the chair with what felt like a burlap bag over your head. You let out a small groan of discomfort feeling your head pulse due to your new injury, one you would have to repay later on. Upon hearing your groan, the bag was swiftly removed from your head allowing the bright lights of the room to flood your vision which hadn’t adjusted making you shut your eyes with a silent wince. After blinking a few times you get adjusted, you were finally able to scan your surroundings. In front of you stood a man with shoulder-length hair, blsck sunglasses, an open kimono and red swim trunks, to his left stood a man with buzzed hair, a black muscle shirt and green military pants who you instantly recognized.

“Aguni?” You asked with confusion seeing the man you used to work with. He was here too? You weren’t surprised he was still alive, the man was invincible when you worked with him. And just like back then, he was silent, he only gave a small nod of his head to you as a response before reassuming his statue-like stance. To his right was a man with silver hair, a white Nike hoodie and blue swim shorts who looked at you in an inquisitive manner with tired yet sharp eyes. Two women who had black hair were standing to his right and a man covered in tattoos stood further off to the side holding a sword long in length, possibly a katana. A few other people were staggered around the room but none of them seemed to be as ‘important’ as the few that you noticed immediately.

“Aguni-san? You know her?” The man in the kimono asked the latter with creased brows showing obvious confusion. “We worked at the SDF together. She was my partner before we were assigned to different segments, she’d be a good addition to the executives or militants.” He responded while putting in a good word for you. “Someone like her? An SDF officer? If you hadn’t told me, Aguni-san, I would have never known.” The man remarked crossing his arms over his chest while walking over to a desk which he leaned on. “What’s that supposed to mean?” You questioned with a scowl in his direction as your fingers fiddled with the ropes binding your wrists. You would be able to get out of them in a matter of minutes if no one noticed what you were trying to do, but it seemed the man in the white hoodie already noticed as he raised his brow in your direction with an impressed smirk on his stoic face. “A pretty, small woman like yourself...I would’ve thought you’d be tagging along with someone and not alone. Actually I would’ve thought you’d be dead by now, much less an SDF officer.” He commented with a wry smile fanning out all your cards which contradicted his statement.

“If my cards tell you anything, you should know you’re wrong,” you hummed, resuming your attempt to loosen the ropes. “Ah yes your cards,” he began while pushing himself off the desk and slowly pacing around the room, “we want you to become a resident at the Beach after seeing the cards you’ve gathered. And after learning of your pastime, you would be a great addition to the team either way.” Of course he would want you once he saw the games you had played, you were good at surviving meaning you’d also be efficient in getting him the rest of the cards. “And if I don’t want to become a resident?” You questioned poking the inside of your cheek with your tongue out of habit. You were doing just fine on your own and definitely did not need this place, however, it seemed like they needed you. Or they needed your cards more so than yourself.

“Well if you choose to stay, you’ll be able to get out of this game quicker. We have a theory that once we collect all the playing cards, one person will be able to go back to the normal world. And if you choose not to stay, well, you can walk away from here but we will keep your cards. We have gathered all the weapons in the city, we regularly gather rain water and food which the game makers seem to replenish once a week, you’ll be taken care of here.” He explained pausing directly in front of you waiting for a response. Did no one else see the problem with him? How he was manipulating everyone to get the cards under the false security that they’d get to leave too? Or was everyone here really THAT ignorant? “It seems like you take my cards either way hm?” You suggested in a hum cocking your head to the right slightly in question. “You’re correct. However, now you would be higher in the rankings and an executive after making such a great contribution and having the skill set you supposedly possess.” He told you in an attempt to persuade you into staying while adding a bit of sweetness to the word ‘contribution’. When you simply looked at him with a bored gaze, he sighed and continued speaking.

“If you decide to stay there are only three rules. 1) "always wear a bathing suit". This is to be sure no one is hiding any weapons which is why our militants don’t have to wear them if chosen to do so. Rule 2) "be free to live your life exactly as you wish including alcohol, drugs and sex" and the third and last rule: "death to traitors".” He enlightened you on the standards they lived by to help you make your decision. It didn’t seem like it would be a bad choice if you chose to stay here, you’d have food, shelter, and people you didn’t know in case you had to play another game of hearts.

“I’ll stay but I want my knife back, if I have to wear a bathing suit you’ll be able to see it anytime since I wear it on my thigh.” You compromised whilst completely freeing your hands from their bound position but still holding the rope to hide suspicions. You hated the fact you’d have to wear a swimsuit because your scars would be visible but if it meant you could have your knife, you’d be more than willing. Hearing a few chuckles resonate around the room at your demand you brought your attention to one of the men in the back of the room who had a bandage on his cheek and a black eye. It was easy to come to the conclusion that he was the one you punched earlier, and the thought of that made you smile with pride while looking at him.

“You are in no position to make demands, sweetheart,” he practically snarled at you. You hated being called sweetheart, it not only made you cringe but it infuriated you beyond measure. With a deadly glare, you let go of the rope and stood from the chair in a swift motion and threw the ropes at him without a word which said everything you needed to. However, just as he caught the ropes you could hear the door being slammed open followed by a voice which was all too familiar.

“The traitors are dead,” the unknown man announced in a tone of pride, kicking the door closed behind him. His voice instantly brought back memory after memory causing you to turn your head in shock in order to make sure you were hearing things correctly. The man you were looking at looked nothing like the one you once knew. This one had piercings on his nose and eyebrow while he sported an automatic rifle on his shoulder and a psychotic smile on his face. “Niragi?” You whispered in shock, still unable to believe your eyes. Was this the same boy you stood up for in high school? He looked so....different. What exactly happened to the sweet, shy boy you once fell in love with? “Y/N?” He questioned letting his mouth fall open the slightest but before he regained his composure. It was him, Suguru Niragi, the first and only man you’ve ever truly fallen in love with, but also the man who disappeared without a trace three years ago. You knew he had left you, it wasn’t hard to figure that much out, but you never knew why and quite frankly, you didn’t care anymore. You had moved on.

“Fantastic! Another one of our own knows this charming young woman, this will make things a lot easier. Niragi, you may take her to the locker rooms so she can change into some fitting attire then you can get her an ID bracelet and take her to her room.” The man who you noticed had a bracelet tagged 001, exclaimed with a clap of his hands as he was instructing Niragi to get you settled in. “She can do it on her own,” Niragi scoffed with a roll of his eyes which had you throwing your head back in a sarcastic chuckle. “I’ll take her,” someone insisted from the side. Glancing in the direction the voice resounded you noticed the short pale man with the silver hair stepping out towards you. He seemed oddly familiar as well but you couldn’t quite place it.

“That’s settled then. Now, my knife?” You quipped raising a brow at the ‘leader’ in the kimono just before someone came from behind you pressing a cold piece of metal to your throat while their other arm was holding your arms in place by your waist. The room went silent as everyone watched what was about to unfold in front of them, Aguni simply rolled his eyes with a sigh knowing what was about to happen. “You mean this knife?” The man teased, his voice was one you recognized from one of the two men that brought you to this place and all you wanted in that moment was to stab him for that. So, naturally, you settled for the next best thing. Pushing your head forward a little while trying not to move your neck, you watched Niragi’s expression as you threw your head backwards with all your force resulting in hitting the unknown man’s nose.

When the back of your skull came into contact with his face he immediately lessened his grip on you which allowed you to slip out of his grasp and take your knife from his hand. With your knife in hand, you grabbed his wrist, twisting it and bending his arm behind his back while your other arm placed him in a chokehold. You leaned in close to his ear as he was fighting your hold before pulling him back harshly, putting pressure on his windpipe, “Never, and I mean NEVER, touch my knife again. Got it?” You growled and if you were being honest, you would’ve intimidated yourself. You didn’t wait for a response as you pushed him forward only to watch him fall onto the ground with a soft thud. “Now,” you sighed looking up with a smile which could’ve been seen as both innocent or sinister, “let’s go,” you said slipping your knife into the holster on your thigh. The man with the white hair stepped forward with his hands in his pockets and came to your side, briefly looking at Niragi before turning his attention to you. “Let’s go, shall we?”

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sarandiel777 · 3 years ago

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(( sarandiel is not a black character, they have never been a black character, and their race/ethnicity does not play into the story whatsoever. sarandiel is a character consisting of many souls, but the most recent one in control was chosen millions of years ago, in ancient greece. they are greek. they have thick, curly hair in a very different texture than what apparently came off in the extremely few images i ever posted of them, there are barely any reference drawings to draw this conclusion from from in the first place but at the time i was apparently not skilled enough to accurately portray that in their design. i was not under the impression that their design made them appear to be black, though i’ve finally been made aware of how it could be interpreted. i don’t plan to redesign them, especially since they don’t look like that right now at all and i’ve refined their design since their last posted image. i understand why there would be a lot of big problems with the dynamic of a black villain oppressing white protagonists, which is, in fact, racist and uncomfortable, if it existed. however, it does not, and never has. no one said a word to me about anyone’s assumptions or concerns or asked me to clarify, at any point before today. there are no character stats to draw this information from or in-character mentions to imply it. i knew who my character was. other people did not. and no one bothered to find out.

I write primarily white characters because i don’t feel confident in accurately and respectfully portraying cultures i’m not a part of or particularly educated in, so many of my characters are white for this reason. mads is from sweden. seculus was a self-insert. none of their races are intended to have any deeper meaning, implications, or racist undertones, and the fact that this malicious intention was assumed of me for no better reason than someone decided my character looked black seems like a red flag for completely different reasons. no one spoke to me about the impression people were under. no one told or asked me what was going on. no one even chose to find out what their race actually was. i’m sorry that my writing caused this discomfort with personally affected members of the community, i caused that without my awareness but it still happened. but it was not an accurate interpretation, though that was not made fully clear, and i apologize for not making their information more publicly available.

if for some reason you don’t believe me, there’s nothing else i can do about that, and you’re free to block and move on. but this is the factual situation with their character, and there’s nothing else i can give but an apology and an acknowledgement that this hurt people, which i wouldn’t have allowed it to keep doing, had anyone brought it up as an issue. this said, if you have a problem with my writing, just tell me. absolutely nothing is going to be accomplished by catching me with surprise about something people secretly despise about me. i’m happy to improve my writing, make people more comfortable, and solve problems with my portrayals, and have never expressed otherwise. this stuff is free to be brought to me if necessary. but people have to actually talk to me to do that. if something like this happens again, that’s what should happen. not being stuck on a vague list for unclear reasons.

#if you know what i'm talking about then you know but i won't link the other post.#ooc

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meruz · 4 years ago

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once again i am answering asks in a big compilation post. included is... gotham, patrick stump, tips about drawing backgrounds, tips about drawing in general, links to my faq, and infinity train

like.... the tv series? No... I’ve drawn dc comics fanart before, though. But it’s been years since I’ve been really into it. I like jumped ship like 10 years ago when the New 52 happened LOL.

AFJHDSLKGH I’m sorry I (probably) won’t do it again??

Actually full disclosure I have a truly cringe amount of p stump drawings/photo studies in my sketchbook right now LOL. He’s just fun to draw... hats, glasses, guitar, a good shape... but I don’t think I’ll rly post those until I can hide them in another big sketchbook pdf.. probably Jan 2022. Stay tuned........ (ominous)

(ominous preview)

These are all sort of related to backgrounds/painting so I grouped them together even though they’re pretty much entirely separate questions.... ANYWAYS

a) How is it working as a BG artist? Is it hard? What show are you drawing for?

I think you’re the first person to ever ask me about my job! Being a background artist is great. It’s definitely labor intensive but I think that could describe pretty much any art job (If something were rote or easy to automate, you wouldn’t hire an artist to do it) and I hesitate to say whether its harder or easier than any other role in the animation pipeline. Plus, so much of what truly makes a job difficult varies from one production to the next, schedule, working environment, co-workers etc. But I will say that I think while BGs are generally a lot of work on the upfront, I think they’re subject to less scrutiny/revisions than something like character/props/effects design and you don’t have to pitch them to a room like boards. So I guess it’s good if you don’t like to talk to people? LOL

A lot of my previous projects + the show I’ve worked on the longest aren’t public yet so I can’t talk about em (but I assure you if/when the news does break I won’t shut up about it). But I’m currently working on Archer Season 12 LOL. I’m like 90% sure I’m allowed to say that.

b) ~~~THANK YOU!! ~~~

c) What exactly do you like to draw most [in a background]?

@kaitomiury Lots of stuff! I really like to draw clutter! Because it’s a great opportunity for environmental storytelling and also you can be kind of messy with it because the sheer mass will supersede any details LOL.

I like to draw clouds... I like to draw grass but not trees lol,,, I like to draw anything that sells perspective really easily like tiled floors and ceilings, shelves, lamp posts on a street etc.

d) Do you have any tips on how to paint (observational)?

god there’s so much to say. painting is really a whole ass discipline like someone can paint their whole life and still discover new things about it. I guess if you’re really just starting out my best advice is that habit is more important than product. especially with traditional plein air painting, I find that the procedure of going outside and setting up your paints is almost harder than the actual painting. There’s a lot of artists who say “I want to do plein air sometime!!” and then never actually get around to doing it. A lot of people just end up working from google streetview or photos on their computer.

But going outside to paint is a really good challenge because it forces you to make and commit to lighting and composition decisions really quickly. And to work through your mistakes instead of against them via undo button.

My last tip is to check out James Gurney’s youtube channel because hes probably the best and most consistent resource on observational painting out there rn. There’s lots other artists doing the same thing (off the top of my head I know a lot of the Warrior Painters group has people regularly posting plein air stuff and lightbox expo had a Jesse Schmidt lecture abt it last year) but Gurney’s probably the most prolific poster and one of the best at explaining the more technical stuff - his books are great too.

e) Do you have tips for drawing cleanly on heavypaint?

@marigoldfool UMM LOL I LIKE ONLY USE THE FILL TOOL so maybe use the fill tool? Fill and rectangle are good for edge control as opposed to the rest of the heavy paint tools which can get sort of muddles. And also I use a stylus so maybe if you’re using your finger, find a stylus that works with your device instead. That’s all I’ve got, frankly I don’t think my drawings are particularly clean lol.

f) Tips on improving backgrounds/scenes making them more dynamic practicing etc?

Ive given some tips about backgrounds/scenes before so I’m not gonna re-tread those but here’s another thing that might be helpful...

I think a good way to approach backgrounds is to think of the specific story or even mood you want to convey with the background first. Thinking “I just need to put something behind this character” is going to lead you to drawing like... a green screen tourist photo backdrop. But if you think “I need this bg to make the characters feel small” or “I need this bg to make the world feel colorful” then it gives you requirements and cues to work off of.

If I know a character needs to feel overwhelmed and small, then I know I need to create environment elements that will cage them in and corner them. If a character needs to feel triumphant/on top of the world then I know I need to let the environment open up around them. etc. If I know my focal point/ where I want to draw attention, I can build the background around that.

Also, backgrounds like figure compositions will have focal points of their own and you can draw attention to it/ the relationship the characters have with the bg element via scale or directionality or color, any number of cues. I think of it almost as a second/third character in a scene.

Not every composition is gonna have something so obvious like this but it helps me to think about these because then the characters feel connected and integrated with the environment.

Some more general art questions

a) Do you have any process/tips to start drawing character/bodies/heads?

I tried to kind of draw something to answer this but honestly this is difficult for me to answer because I don’t think I’m that great at drawing characters LOL. Ok, I think I have two tips.

1) flip your canvas often. A lot about what makes human bodies look correct and believable is symmetry and balance. Even if someone has asymmetrical features, the body will often pull and push in a way to counterbalance it. we often have inherent biases to one side or another like dominant hands dominant eyes etc. you know how right-handed artists will often favor drawing characters facing 45 degrees facing (the artist’s) left? that’s part of it. so viewing your drawing flipped even just to evaluate it helps compensate for that bias and makes you more aware of balance.

2) draw the whole figure often. I feel like a lot of beginner artists (myself included for a long time) defer to just drawing headshots or busts because it’s easier, you dont have to think about posing limbs etc. But drawing a full body allows you to better gauge proportion, perspective, body language, everything that makes a character look believable and grounded.

Like if you (me) have that issue where you draw the head too big and then have to resize it to fit the proportions of the rest of the body, it’s probably because you (I) drew the head first and are treating the body as an afterthought/attachment. Sketching out the whole figure first or even just quick drawing guides for it will help you think of it more holistically. I learned this figure drawing in charcoal at art school LOL.

oh. third mini tip - try to draw people from life often! its the best study. if you can get into a figure drawing/nude drawing class EVEN BETTER and if you have a local college/art space/museum that hosts those for free TREASURE IT AND TAKE ADVANTAGE OF IT, that’s a huge boon that a lot of artists (me again) wish they had. though if youre not so lucky and youre sitting in a park trying to creeper draw people and they keep moving.. don’t let that stop you! that’s good practice because it’s forcing you to work fast to get the important stuff down LOL. its a challenge!

b) I’ve been pretty out of energy and have had no inspiration to draw but I have the desire to. Any advice?

Dude, take a walk or something.... Or a nap? Low energy is going to effect everything else so you gotta hit that problem at its source.

If you’re looking for inspiration though, I’d recommend stuff like watching a movie, reading a book, playing video games etc. Fill up your idea bank with content and then give yourself time/space to gestate it into new concepts. Sometimes looking at other art works but sometimes it can work against you because it’s too close.

Also something that helps me is remembering that art doesn’t always have to be groundbreaking... like it’s okay to make something shitty and stupid that you don’t post online and only show to your friend. That’s all part of the process imo. If you want to hit a home run you gotta warm up first, right? Sports.

I should probably compile everytime i give tips on stuff like this but that’s getting dangerously close to being a social media artist who makes stupid boiled down art tutorials for clout which is the last thing i want to be... the thing I want to stress is that art is a whole visual language and there are widely agreed upon rules and customs but they exist in large part to be broken. Like there's an infinite number of ways to reach an infinite number of solutions and that’s actually what makes it really cool and personal for both the artist and the viewer. So when you make work you like or you find someone else’s work you like, take a step back and ask yourself what about it speaks for you, what about it works for you, what makes it effective, how to recreate that effect and how to break that effect completely, etc. And have a good time with it or else what’s the point.

for the first 2, I direct you to my FAQ

For the last one, I don’t actually believe I’ve ever addressed artwork as insp for stories/rp but I’ll say here and now yeah go ahead! As long as you’re not making profit or taking credit for my work then I’m normally ok with it. Especially anything thats private and purely recreational, that’s generally 100% green light go. I only ask that if you post it anywhere public that you please credit me.

(and I reserve the right to ask you to take it down if I see it and don’t approve of it’s use but I think that case is pretty rare.)

a) @lemuelzero101 Thank you!!! I haven’t played Life is Strange but actually that series’ vis dev artist Edouard Caplain is one of my bigger art inspirations lately so that’s a really high compliment lol. And yeah I hope we get 5-8 too...!

b) Thank you for sticking around! I’ve been thinking about Digimon and Infinity Train in tandem lately, actually. They’re a little similar? Enter a dangerous alternate world and have wacky adventures with monsters/inanimate objects that have weird powers... there’s like weird engineers and mechanisms behind the scenes... also frontier literally starts with them getting on a train. Anyways if anyone else followed me for digimon... maybe you’d like Infinity Train? LOL

c) @king-wens-king I’M GLAD MY ART JUST HAS PINOY VIBES LOL I hope you are having a good day too :^)

a, b, c, d) yessss my Watch Infinity Train agenda is working....

e) aw thank you!! i think you should watch infinity train :)

#ask #trying this new thing where i tag people in the body of the post instead

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sweetretribution · 2 years ago

Note

3 and 12 !!

Canon Questionnaire.

3. What’s the best thing about the show/series/books/comics/etc.?

A lot of people will tell you the one and only answer to this is "the fight scenes," and it's hard to disagree. Especially early on, the action scene choreography was a major draw to the show for people. However, this did fumble for a while with the tragic loss of show creator and lead animator Monty Oum, and while I never expected anyone to be able to fill his shoes- the man was a wizard I s2g- I do want to take the dip in quality for a while into account. They've absolutely improved since then, and I feel like he would be happy with the work the animators do.

Something that has been consistently great is the music. Jeff Williams was the lead producer on the soundtrack for volumes 1-8, with his daughter Casey(who was 13 when doing her first recordings for the show)often providing vocals. Lots of songs are told from the point-of-view of certain characters, and make for excellent storytelling tools in that regard, on top of just about every one of them being a bop/banger/jam/etc. Jeff retired from the show after volume 8, with Casey taking the reins for volume 9, and she continued to do an excellent job.

Lastly, I think something great about the show is just...that it's kept going. When Monty passed away shortly after volume 2 concluded, there was lots of concern about whether or not RWBY was going to continue. The crew ultimately decided that the show must go on, and I really admire that. Monty was their friend, and they didn't want his story to die with him. They've kept his world alive up to this point, and whether or not people think the show's quality is better or worse than it was when we had him, I feel like they've done their best with what they were left. People criticize changes they've made to the ideas he had, and while I don't think ALL of them are great, do people not understand that Monty himself would change shit up all the time? Hell, my muse's entire existence was a result of a snap decision he made. The RWBY he had in his head after volume 2 ended would not be the RWBY we have today even if he were still here, and it pisses me the hell off when people always attack the crew for not following his plan to the letter. As if THEY have any idea what his plan was- as if THEY were his personal friend and would be able to do the show so much better than the people whose help he sought out.

...Sorry for the tangent. I get passionate about that topic in particular.

12. What would you say is the most unique trait about your character?

Speaking of Neo's existence as mentioned before, I think that, from a meta perspective, is what's most unique about her. Her original design was based on a female cosplay of her boss, Roman Torchwick, and her Semblance was created solely for her first major scene so that Roman would have a means of escaping team RWBY. She was basically a last-minute addition Monty made, and yet has become such a fan favorite that she became the main antagonist of volume 9, and she and Roman have their own spinoff novel.

As a character, though, I think her most unique trait is how she expresses herself. Being actually physically mute requires her to be much more animated than the majority of the cast in order to get her point across. It does wonders to have her avoid the serious, stoic trappings that are so common in most characters that just prefer to be silent rather than having a disability. Her Semblance also helps her communicate through her own images rather than words, though I feel like that would be cheating to cite since it's not something a lot of universes with silent characters could do. Her physical demeanor, on the other hand, is something they COULD do but elect not to. It creates a wider pool of characters she's included with and makes her stand out more amongst them because of it.

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sturchling · 4 years ago

Note

A maribat no pairing needed but if you want one you can write it in. But basically Marinette goes to Gotham and stays with the bat family. Bruce is leaving hits he is Batman so he can help Marinette with being ladybug

Sorry for the wait! Hope you like it! I decided to make this one a little more funny with a completely oblivious Marinette. Sorry if you don't like her being this oblivious, just wanted to have some fun with this one. I really liked that idea and thought it was funny. I hope you like it too, I had a lot of fun writing it!

Marinette was so excited she was shaking. She had just gotten word that she had been accepted into an exchange student program with Gotham Academy. Not only would she be able to get away from Lila and the drama with the class, but she may also be able to find Batman and get some help with tracking down Hawkmoth. Marinette would be hosted by the Wayne family, who was sponsoring this whole program. Marinette was impressed by Mr. Wayne's generousity. It is really generous of Mr. Wayne to set up and fund this whole program. He must be a really nice man. Marinette wasn't going waste this opportunity. She would enjoy her time in America, and she would definitely find Batman before the program was over!

------------------

Bruce really hoped this crazy plan worked. He had learned several weeks ago about a blog based out of Paris called the Ladyblog. It mainly posted a bunch of nonsense about a girl named Lila who was clearly a liar. But that wasn't what caught his attention. What caught his attention was a few stories posted between the interviews with the liar. These posts were about something called 'akuma attacks' and a supervillain named Hawkmoth who had been terrorizing Paris for years now. At first, Bruce just thought it was more nonsense, like the posts about the liar. But to be safe, he looked into it more, and was astonished to find out it was the truth. He learned everything Hawkmoth had done, all the different akumas, and about the local heroes: Ladybug and Chat Noir.

-------------------

He was shocked to see that the heroes defending Paris were just kids. And while they have done great on their own, Bruce could tell they haven't had any kind of combat training. If they go up against an akuma with real training, they would be at a significant disadvantage. Plus, they would likely not have any good strategy to discover Hawkmoth's identity. Even if they keep winning against the akumas, they have to find and beat Hawkmoth or this madness will never end. He resolved in that moment to find these kids and help them. He focused on Ladybug and started to figure out her civilian ID. It took a few weeks, but he eventually found out she was Marinette Dupain-Cheng. She always disappeared once Ladybug appeared, and there were a few times that a security camera would see her duck into an alley, and then a few moments later, Ladybug would emerge. Once he knew her identity, he began to plan.

----------------------

He decided the easiest way to get her to Gotham would likely be something regarding school. At first he thought of a class trip for her whole class, but decided against it. That idea wouldn't work with the rest of his plan. Instead, he set up a student exchange program with Gotham Academy. He would host the student that was selected at his manor for the duration of the program and fund the entire thing. The academy didn't think anything of it, used to Mr. Wayne's charitable acts for the school. His one condition was that he got to choose the student. The academy agreed, it only made sense since Mr. Wayne was funding the program and would host the student as well.

--------------------

Mr. Wayne made sure that the news of the program made it to Paris and was heavily advertised. He even sent the information to Ms. Dupain-Cheng's school. He was sure that she would learn about it and apply quickly. Ms. Dupain-Cheng had seemed like an ambitious student from what he had found so far, so the offer of studying in America would be tempting. Plus if she was as clever as she seemed, based off her actions as Ladybug, then he was sure she would want to come and try to meet with Batman. It didn't take long for Marinette's application to cross his desk. As he approved her application and typed up her acceptance email, he smiled and began the next phase of his plan.

---------------

Bruce knew that Marinette would be very concerned if he approached her about being Ladybug outright. It would be best if she approached him. And here was the problem. She wouldn't approach him, she would only approach Batman. So he needed to have her figure out that he was Batman. He didn't want her to transform into Ladybug and look around Gotham for him. That could cause people back in Paris to figure out her identity, if Ladybug appeared in Gotham at the same time as Marinette. And if Hawkmoth figured it out, that would be horrible. And if Marinette went looking for Batman in her civilian form, it could be really dangerous. Instead, Bruce and his sons were going to make it painfully obvious who they were. They would leave all their equipment out in plain view, all their case files out, he was even going to park the Batmobile outside in the driveway (out of sight of the gates of course, he doesn't want anyone but Marinette to find out his identity). Short of walking around in their costumes, they would do everything they could.

-------------------

Bruce's sons were excited. They didn't have to be careful about their identities around her which was a plus, and after learning that Marinette fighting Hawkmoth with only Chat Noir for consistent help, they were more than ready to help them with the Hawkmoth problem. They had also made bets on how long it would take her to figure it out, and which member of the family would be the one to give it away. They were ready for Marinette to arrive.

---------------------

Marinette had arrived about a week ago, and Bruce's plan was in full effect. But, surprisingly, Marinette hadn't figured it out. She spent most of her time out, walking around Gotham. She had told the Waynes that she was familiarizing her self with the city and also gathering inspiration for her designs. In reality, she was focused on finding Batman. So focused in fact, that she missed all the clues that the Waynes were leaving her. She had walked right past the Batmobile, hardly giving it a second glance. She had picked up some casefiles sitting at the dining table, and instead of reading, or even just looking at them, she just handed them to Bruce and finished setting the table. She had walked in on Jason cleaning his guns in the living room, and instead of commenting on that, just sat down and turned on the TV. At one point, she even came into the gym and found Dick doing an acrobatic routine that only Nightwing would be able to do, all while Tim and Jason were sparing, and Damian was sharpening his sword. They were sure this would get her attention. But Marinette didn't even notice. She just got on a treadmill, put in her headphones and started running. They boys just stared at her. They were shocked that she could be so oblivious.

------------------------

While Marinette was out walking around Gotham, looking for Batman again, the Batfam was having a meeting at the manor. They couldn't believe that Marinette hadn't figured it out yet. At least Bruce could definitely prove that his secret ID was better than Clark's. Marinette's been living with him for months now, with them actively trying to reveal their secret to her, and she still couldn't figure it out. They were running out of ideas and time. The program ended in a few weeks and they had done everything they could think of. Except for one thing. They hadn't thought they would have to be so obvious, but it was clear that Marinette would figure it out any other way.

----------------------

So, that is how they found themselves coming up from the Batcave, in full costume, making a lot of noise to draw Marinette's attention as she sat watching TV in the living room. Marinette came around the corner and looked at them. Marinette's eyes grew wide, and she just stared. The Waynes were sure she finally figured it out. Finally, she broke the silence, saying "Nice costumes guys! You look just like the real Batfam. Nice attention to detail!" Then she just went back into the living room, leaving the Batfam frozen in disbelief.

--------------------

Bruce decided enough was enough, and the family went into the living room, still in costume, and told Marinette their secret directly. She was pretty surprised. She had been so consumed with looking for Batman around Gotham, she never even thought she might be living with him. The night continued for a long time after that. Marinette revealed her secret and the Waynes revealed they had known all along. They told her that they had seen her using the horse miraculous to go back to Paris for an akuma battle, which that may not have been how they figured her out, but they had seen that too. After all the reveals were done, the group spent the rest of the night focused on Hawkmoth and how to track him. Tim got to work immediately and was sure he would have an answer soon, though it may be after she went back to Paris. The rest of Marinette's time in Gotham was spent training how to fight properly, and how to find better places to transform. Marinette soon went back to Paris, armed with better fighting skills, and the knowledge that she now had Batman as an ally in the fight against Hawkmoth.

#ml #ml fic #ml fanfic #miraculous ladybug #miraculous tales of ladybug and chat noir #miraculous fic #miraculous fanfic #maribat #ml x dc #miraculous x dc #dc x mlb #mlb x dc #oblivious marinette #maribat fic #maribat fanfic

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confessionsof-a-writing-freak · 4 years ago

Text

I Don't Wanna Be a Memory

Summary:

And it isn’t your fault! It’s not! You don’t want me anymore, and that’s fine, but my omega hasn’t forgotten, and my heart won’t forgive you for not loving me anymore. So stop. Stop saying my name like you still want me. Because every time you do, I feel like you’ve come back to me, but you haven’t- you won’t! And it’s killing me, Buck.”

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33385405

Rating: Explicit

Ship: James 'Bucky' Barnes/Steve Rogers

Additional tags: A/B/O Dynamics, Alpha bucky!, Omega Steve!

Bucky’s voice is the single most dangerous weapon he possesses.

Not the guns, or the knives, or even the years of government-issued muscle memory in hand-to-hand combat could compare the carnage that rubbles and quakes the earth when he says Steve's name.

“Stevie,” Low and silky. Full of authority-full of alpha. But still understanding the difference in rank despite the apparent superiority in designation. Never challenging or speaking down, but fuck did it make Steve want to sink to his knees and watch Bucky fall apart due to his mouth for a change.

“Steve?”

Okay, maybe not the entire earth, but Steve’s world sure feels like it’s been turned on its axis.

“...Steve.”

The worst part of it all is Bucky has no idea. No clue. No motivation! He simply exists and speaks like that with no intention of letting his voice get all severe and appetizing for the purpose of getting Steve’s omega excited for Bucky's alpha.

It’s especially distracting during missions.

Steve’s heart races, his conscious thought nowhere to be found as he conjures up impossible scenarios involving his reformed assassin best friend and naked cuddling.

The second they boarded the Quinjet, Steve had torn the earpiece away as if it had burned him.

Can you imagine leading a team or keeping them safe when every so often your second in command asks for your position, voice rough as he asks Steve for orders?!

Can anyone really blame him for getting lost in the phantom sensations of Bucky saying his name like a secret no one else deserves to know?

He didn’t think so.

That being said, all the control he can muster in order to actually complete a mission evaporates into the wind the moment the dance between life and death comes to a close; every suppressed, shameless fantasy unleashed and unforgiving as they consume his every thought.

Steve is abruptly pulled from his most recent daydream when a cool metal hand taps the back of his wrist twice, “You with us, Steve? I’ve been calling your name for a minute now.”

Quickly, Steve straightens his back and squares his shoulders, meeting stormy grey eyes.

“Sorry, Buck. Had a lot on my mind.”, He says with more confidence than he actually has.

It’s not really a lie. He does have a lot on his mind, all the ways he can find himself face down, ass up on the other man’s bed. Drooling and crying and breathing in Buckys scent with every breath he takes.

Of course, he can’t very well say that, can he?

He was lucky the S.H.I.E.L.D issued, super soldier approved suppressants made him nearly null. He can’t fathom the level of embarrassment that would claim him if Buck- or the whole damn plane for that matter- could scent the desperation, horny inside of him.

Bucky shifts closer, grey eyes softening the tiniest bit with concern, “Is everything alright?”

No.

“Yes, of course, “ He lies, “Just thinking about battle techniques is all. Scouts honor!” Steve makes an odd, incorrect gesture as a mock salute.

Bucky allows a small huff of air Steve recognizes as his poor imitation of a chuckle. There’s a moment of fuzzy pride that nearly causes Steve to purr; happy he brought a smile to the alpha’s face before his stomach drops clear down to his toes as murmured laughter rumbles too close to a growl in Buckys chest.

“My memory may be shit, Stevie, but I know for damn sure you weren’t no boy scout.”

Aaaand there it is.

Stevie.

Steves omega stirs and preens before the captain shoves them back down. Resenting the butterflies crying out in his belly and the urge to beg Bucky to just say his name over and over and over…

“Steve?”, This time, the concern isn’t quite as subtle, “Are you sure you’re alright, pal?” Bucky takes a step closer towards the blonde, drawing out skittish blue eyes, lowering his voice in case anyone was listening.

Again, the omega clears his throat and squares his shoulders.

“Did you want to tell me something, Sargent?”

Bucky opens his mouth, defiance dancing on his tastebuds before something makes him snap it shut, offering a curt nod, “Yes, Captain.” His voice strained, everything he wants to say lodged in his throat.

“I just wanted to let you know that we should be landing in less than 15 minutes.”

Like before, Bucky opens his mouth to say something but thinks better of it. Choosing instead to take a seat beside his captain, slipping his arms through the provided harness. He gives Steve a pointed look, “We should probably buckle up.”

For a moment, Steve is taken back to the war. When his body was just beginning to react to the serum and the increased suppressants. (The government had taken every percussion necessary to ensure the public wouldn’t know Captain America was an omega.)

After Steve became ‘big’ and outranked Bucky in the military, the brunette never did anything but follow him into the fire. Loyal and boundless. Never questioning his strategies or actions unless it put him in direct danger. That didn’t mean he could keep himself from telling Steve what to do. He just found different ways to do it.

Suggesting tasks, like putting on seatbelts, for instance. Strapping extra weapons to his ankles before handing one to Steve and forcing it into his hands even when the blonde would roll his eyes, whispering his disapproval so only he would hear.

Never raising his voice or permitting his tone to deepen or his scent to take on that spicy, electric feel that never failed to make Steve bare his neck. Never stepping out of line. Never disrespecting or demeaning Steves title. Always in charge anyway.

Bucky doesn’t utter a single command or request, but Steve buckles up anyhow. Drinking in the small, hardly there smile that Bucky offers to the air in front of him, not even meeting Steve’s gaze. And the omega hates the happiness, the relief he feels at satisfying Bucky.

Hates that Bucky doesn’t even have to tell him what to do for him to obey. Hates that he has to obey, even though Bucky doesn’t need him to anymore.

He doesn’t need him anymore...

Bucky still hasn’t said a word when they land, but it’s not like Steve gave him much of an opportunity.

Things have been strained between them since Steve began pulling away. Avoiding Bucky’s calls and limiting their time together.

It was just easier that way. Miserable and lonely, but easier.

The moment the Quinjet is stationary, the supersoldier is up on his feet and stomping down the runway, leaving the Avengers and Bucky behind him.

He needs to breathe.

He can’t breathe!

If he didn’t know any better, he would say he was having an asthma attack. It feels like an asthma attack.

Steve’s eyes sting with unshed tears, taking large gulps of air into his lungs, and it burns!

He arrives at his door by the grace of God, not remembering entering the tower or if he passed anyone on his way.

“Jarvis. Door.” He gasps. Actual fear starting to seep into his bones.

“Yes, Captain Rogers,” The AI responds, the oversized steel doors swinging open.

Distantly, Steve hears the door shut behind him and feels himself settle against a wall. He pushes his back against the surface and tries to even out his breathing. Revisiting everything he can remember about how to resolve an asthma attack.

After several attempts, he stumbles into a somewhat consistent breathing pattern, his chest heaving at a slower rate.

In through the nose. Out through the mouth. In through the nose. Out through the mouth. In through the nose…

It’s not working!

Steve’s heartbeat only hammers against his chest and neck quicker, his breathing sharply turning back into hyperventilation.

It’s then that he realizes he isn’t having an asthma attack at all. He’s having a panic attack.

Fuck, Fuck, Fuck.

In through the nose. Out through the mouth. InthroughthenoseOutthroughthemouth.

Why isn’t this working!?

The blonde clenches his eyes shut, a sob fighting its way past trembling lips. He feels so alone. So unwanted, Unwarranted.

He thinks back to the 40s- back to him and Bucky. After the serum, during the war. Hidden behind the cover of night and an abandoned building at the far end of Base. The first time since the change, his heart felt like it would crawl its way up Steves throat and swan dive right off his tongue.

Struggling to ease the fogginess in his mind, Steve remembers strong arms wrapped around his waist. Cool metal poking his nose as he bumped Bucky’s dog tags with each of his movements, scenting warm flesh.

Bucky’s voice is rumbling demands, his voice leaving no room for argument while every word was also laced with patience and love. Scent projecting love, understanding, I’m here, you’re safe.

“In through your nose. Out through your mouth. In through your nose. Out through your mouth.”

He repeats the mantra until Steve’s Omega obeyed his alpha, sucking in lung fulls of oxygen and releasing it in time with Buckys orders.

The memory of bombs and gunshots lost behind the sound of Bucky’s voice.

In through your nose. Out through your mouth. In through your nose. Out through your mouth.

He conjures up the memory of Buckys voice, coated in alpha command, urging him to breathe evenly. Fingers digging into Steve’s flushed skin, grounding him.

His alpha always knows what he needs...

Steve misses him.

Misses more than just the raw irrefutable attraction that got them into more trouble than it should have growing up. But he misses the rest of him too.

Misses the smirks and the long nights dreaming of what the future would bring. He misses Bucky’s laugh. God, he can hardly remember what it sounds like now.

Steve misses the way he would kiss. Gently. Chaste. Rough. Long. Kiss him in private and kiss him places that weren’t safe. On the stoop in front of their apartment, before the sun would come up and wandering eyes could catch them. Or alone in their bedroom, lips starting on his eyelids, across purple bruises, then down to his chest. Swallowing the omega’s moans and grinning into his mouth before settling beside him and chuckling deep into his ear, the last thing Steve would hear before sleep would overcome him. He misses the way Bucky would say his name like a prayer, wrap his lips around every letter like a caress, eyes sparkling with their love.

He misses knowing he’ll never be alone.

His heart thunders in his ears, chest feeling seconds away from crumbling in on itself as he thinks maybe it was easier when he believed the alpha was dead. Before he found out Bucky was alive, he mourned the man who loved him. Now, he grieves the love he’s lost. The alpha- his alpha-standing beside him without an ounce of affection or desire in his eyes.

Bucky wasn’t mourning the loss of Steve because he didn’t want Steve. Not anymore.

He clearly remembered enough. He may remember it all. However, knowing didn’t mean he had any intention of returning to what they had.

But even if every memory was gone, if the omega mattered at all, Bucky would remember him- his soul! If Steve himself were robbed of his past and they were just meeting again for the first time, he knew his soul would remember Buckys. Would want to know him all over, not needing to understand why!

The tears are falling before Steve has the chance to notice. A jagged whine barreling past his lips. All the weight of devastation and loneliness finally falling onto his shoulders.

Bucky had met him again. But he didn’t need him the same. Didn’t know his Omega; he didn’t want his heart.

Steve slumps further against the wall, blonde hair drenched in sweat, hands clawing at his chest, trying fruitlessly to manage his racing heart.

Closing his eyes, the omega summons an image of Bucky smiling reassuringly, soothing him as he tells him what to do.

In through your nose. Out through your mouth. In through your nose. Out through your mouth.

Okay… okay. That’s better.

“It hurts to think of you,” The omega confesses to no one, the tears running past his chin onto his suit. But I need you, “And I can’t breathe without you.”

“In through your nose. Out through your mouth. In through your nose. Out through your mouth. I’ve got you, Stevie. In and out. That’s it. In through your nose. Out through your mouth.”

Steve allows himself to sink deeper into his fantasy, swearing he could actually feel Bucky's hands running down his back and through his hair.

“I’ve got you, Stevie.”

It’s the last thing Steve hears before he passes out.

***

Steve is warm.

Steve’s bed has always been too soft, even after Sam suggested a firmer mattress. While helpful, he still couldn’t manage anything better than a fitful half-sleep most nights. He knew why, but in an effort to avoid further misery, he chooses not to dwell too much on that matter.

Aside from the too-soft mattress and the alpha missing from his bed, the omega was never warm enough. He shivered and reached out for body heat too far from his reach. But…

Steve is warm...

For a moment, he swears arms are around him.

And for a moment, he doesn’t care who they belong to. Because he isn’t shivering, for once. Isn’t suffering through another cold sweat, and the omega constantly pacing within him is actually settled. He hasn’t been this comfortable since the previous century, so whoever the hell is beside him can very well stay where they are, as long as he can keep this feeling.

It’s with another breath, he feels consciousness slowly creep up on him.

He almost laughs at the thought of being comfortable in anyone else’s arms. Of course, Bucky should have been his first thought, but honestly, at this point, Bucky willingly in his bed was a cruel dream.

Bucky must be using the same blockers Steve does. His Omega can’t scent him even this close, but who else’s arms fit so perfectly around him?

It’s the closest they’ve been at all since rescuing Bucky from Hydra, and Steve hated it as much as he loved it.

He wants to go back to sleep. Wants to bask in the warmth Bucky offers and pretend they’re back in their tiny apartment in Brooklyn. Struggling to make ends meet and unplagued by the horrors of war. Hidden from the world behind wilting wallpaper, sharing sweet kisses and bruising grips.

But this isn’t 1939. Bucky doesn’t share his bed...or his affections.

He would give anything to go back. He’d give anything to have his alpha again.

“I didn’t know you still had panic attacks.”, of course, Bucky noticed he wasn’t asleep anymore.

Steve feels him shift away, the arm around his waist, already feather-light, hardly there.

The omega within him whines, not wanting him to pull away. No, he wants him to climb on top of him. To drop all of his weight onto Steve’s hopeless body, make him stay in place. Unable to move until Bucky tells him he can...

Steve clenches his eyes tightly, suppressing his every unrelenting instinct from manifesting into something that will only push Bucky further away. And he needs him. Steve needs him, even if it is killing him.

“Yeah, well, there’s a lot you don’t know about, Buck.”, the omega remarks, his back still firmly pressed to Bucky’s chest.

Bucky may be ready to move, but Steve certainly isn’t. It’s not like the Alpha will say anything. Steve is far from perfect, despite whatever bullshit the news wants to feed the public. Steve is flawed and can be as selfish as anyone else. There are times where he permits his gaze to linger longer than it should, hands lazily pulling back when they should’ve never left his side, to begin with, or say Buckys name in the dead of night, surrounded by nothing but darkness and the sticky evidence of his spent weaknesses.

In private or in front of the alpha, Steve has toed the line of what is appropriate between friends and behavior shared between lovers.

Bucky has never reacted to any of it. Robotic and perfect all at once. His responses are exactly what they’re supposed to be, feeling false all the same.

Never contesting. Never reacting. As if Steve doesn’t ache for him.

It’s then that the confusion begins to twist at the recess of the omega’s mind.

“Why are you in my bed, Buck?” And how can I keep you here?

There’s a beat of silence, Bucky’s breath even beside Steve’s ear. It almost feels rehearsed, as if Bucky is concentrating on his breathing. Steve shakes the thought away before he can fool himself for the millionth time something is there that has proven again and again to be long ago dead.

“I was worried about you,” Bucky eventually admits, the arm just barely resting on Steve’s hip returning to its previous pressure, fingers hot and electrifying as they accidentally meet bare flesh peeking beneath Steve’s sleep shirt.

Sleep shirt?

“Did you change my clothes?” Steve says without thinking, saying anything to stop himself from moaning. He can’t remember the last time Buckys hands were this close to his body without explosions and frantic shouts playing in the background.

He turns his neck enough to meet Bucky’s clouded grey gaze.

A gasp falls from his lips instinctively, his own eyes widening on their own accord, taking in the receding blood red only just beginning to fade from the alpha’s eyes.

Just like that, Bucky is removing his arm entirely, releasing the Omega and taking all of that delicious warmth with him.

Bucky stays on the bed, though. His back resting against the headboard.

Steve just narrowly stops himself from shouting, ‘No! Stay, please!’, his heart pounding in his ears and his hands burning with the desire to reach out and drag the other man in.

Instead, he swallows his cries and urges his weary muscles into a sitting position, facing away from the former assassin.

While Steve was changed into something more comfortable than his uniform, the omega notices Bucky remains in his clunky tactical gear, down to his boots.

He had no intention of staying, Rogers. Take deep breaths, and give him an out.

He just needs to go.

The blonde is good at pretending. Well, most days anyway, he can fake a smile when the world is falling apart; he can pretend to be happy. But what he can’t seem to do anymore is pretend that he isn’t painfully in love with the man currently sitting on his bed, not a single reminisce of what they once were hanging between them.

He can’t manage a smile or a whisper of optimism when everything good has been taken from him. He knows what’s expected of him, but there are days when the sorrow is crippling, and he feels weaker than he ever did as that little guy from Brooklyn.

Clearly, no more talking is going to happen. And Steve isn’t emotionally stable enough right now to act as if he doesn’t want the alpha to bathe him in his scent, forcing the lingering panic, unwell, lonely away.

He moves to stand when,

“Rest.”

The order is sharp and certainly unintentional.

The shiver that races down Steve’s spine is violent, and his body locks up, ready to obey.

Turning his neck again, Steve catches the profile of the alphas annoyingly handsome face. His eyes are closed, brow pinched in concentration.

Steve stands slowly, hands shaking. It’s sickening how dreadfully good that single word made him feel. Floaty and sated. His blood, always raging, rushing, and crying out, settles within him, preparing to be taken care of.

The logical part of him reminds the omega they’ve been here before. Bucky will do something so woefully familiar, he dilutes himself into thinking he’s still wanted.

It’s never the case.

Steve keeps the hope from his tone when he challenges, “Excuse me?” Waiting for another command with bated breath.

“You should probably rest, Cap,” Bucky folds his arms across his broad chest, still ignoring Steve’s previous question as well as his gaze.

Forcing a smirk that makes him want to throw up, Steve teases, “Are you avoiding my question, Sargent?”

“Steve,” Bucky objects, voice chastizing.

Something uneasy burrows into Steve’s stomach, his body rejecting the discontent emanating off Bucky's skin.

He shrugs away the urge to whine, instead offering an ingenuine chuckle, “Jeez, I’m fine. Why so serious, Buck?”

Bucky stands, eyes hard, glaring right into Steve’s soul. The blonde sucks in a harsh breath, his fingers tingling and breath shallow.

Bucky’s eyes are red.

“Why so serious? “ The alpha growls, not moving from his spot beside Steve’s bed. The distance separating them not making sense in contrast to the intimate edge heavy in the air. It would be comical if not for the current sparking the negative space.

“We’re just gonna pretend like I didn’t find you seconds from passing out less than an hour ago? Is that something casual, am I supposed to just ignore it?”

Steve’s plastic smile fades, a tired expression painting his sharp features, “Yes. That’s exactly what you’re supposed to do.” He sighs, scrubbing his face in frustration, “Ignore it. Like you ignore everything else, Bucky...Just go.”

“What’s tha ‘posed to mean?”

“It means I’m sorry you had to see that, but you don’t have to worry about it.”

“See what? You being irresponsible?”

The thin scrap of patience the omega has evaporates; actually, it burns the fuck up, raging as loud as Steve’s fury, “Irresponsible!?”

The anger shoots through Steve like a wildfire, his temperature rising and his hands balling into fists. If the Alpha didn’t know any better, he’d think Steve was going to punch him.

Even so, he doesn’t back down. Instead, he takes a single step towards the blonde, body tight and rigid. Voice booming when he sneers, “Yes, goddamn it! Irresponsible.”

“Fuck you, Bucky!” Steve shouts, “Who the hell are you to lecture me on being irresponsible?”

“I’m your… I’m your second in command, and if you were struggling with PTSD, you should have told me something! Instead of me following you to your rooms and basically threatening Jarvis into letting me in. You were pale, Steve. Snow White ain’t got shit on how you looked- you were nearly blue! And I’m sorry for stepping in. We can blame it on your biology, but you finally managed to relax when my alpha came forward. It’s irresponsible to let yourself get to that point when you could have come to me- or, or anyone in the avengers for help.”

“You’re sorry,” Steve scoffs, “ You’re sorry you had to help me.”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

“Oh, but it’s what you said, isn’t it?” The Omega is nearly in hysterics. Half sad laughs, the only thing keeping him from crying.

“Steve...”

Buckys voice is now soaked in concern, the anger lost behind wisps of worried seeping from his concealed scent. Which serves only to break Steve further.

“Stevie.” Bucky repeats, wondering if Steve was spiraling into another panic attack.

He is only two steps away from him in a second, twitching, never touching but always close.

Steve feels another shock rack his entire body. His name falling from Bucky’s lips so effortlessly. The authority he holds swallowing every syllable. The sheer force of it nearly brings the omega to his knees.

Steve's heart pounds against his chest, like his heart is trying to escape. Running both hands across his face, then over tufts of blonde hair, his hands meeting behind his neck craned up towards the sky. Praying to anyone up there with mercy that Bucky will just leave. He keeps his arms where they arm before he can do something stupid like reach out.

“Bucky, why are you so concerned about it?” Steve’s eyes are still trained to the ceiling.

Steve knows he’s playing with fire. Playing with his own emotions, but sometimes he can swear he lives for it.

Bucky hesitates, watching Steve with careful eyes. “Because…You are our Captain and my best friend. If you need help, I am going to help you.”

The finality in his tone almost sounds like an alpha command, but his words contradict any sense of attraction or desire.

Another huff, gaze and arms dropping, “I’ll be fine once you leave.” Steve counters, harsher than he intended.

But fuck if he cares. Bucky doesn’t want him. He deserves to be a little angry. If he can’t grieve him, he can at least have this!

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing!” He snaps, “Just leave, James.”

“James? Oh, I’m James now?”

Steve could care less if he’s hurt his feelings. He’s had enough. His heart hurts, and his head aches. He is done playing this ‘I’m okay with everything’ game.

He is not okay with this, Dammit!

His heart is broken. Shattered. Irreplaceable. And he’s just supposed to be okay with that? He’s supposed to be Bucky’s friend and make jokes and smile when he is dying inside? Crying for his alpha- for stability when he feels like his whole world has been rocked?

Well, he’s had enough. He’s behaved for 2 years. He’s done!

Clenching blue eyes shut, Steve feels every carefully constructed wall of deception crumple at their feet.

“I don’t have time for this. Just leave so that I can breathe! I can’t breathe with you here!”

“Stevie…”

“Please,” the omega whimpers, all the fight leaving his body, long pale fingers running through sleep tousled hair, pulling at the roots, “Just stop.”

“Stop what? I can’t stop doing something if I don’t know what it is I’m doing!”

It’s Bucky’s turn to be panicked. In two strides, he’s in front of Steve, feeling the alarm creep up his chest, a flash of something sharpening eerie grey.

“Steve! Answer m-” Bucky lifts his hands as if to reach out for the other man but catches himself before metal could find flesh, “Will you tell me what I am doing wrong?”

Steve wants to cry and scream and rip that stupid mental arm out of its socket just so he can slap Bucky with it.

“Stop!” He repeats desperately, “Just stop! Stop saying my name! Stop talking to me like-like…”

“Like what!?”

Taking a calming breath, Steve forces himself to meet the alpha’s eyes, “Do you have any idea how hard it is for me to give you orders and never receive a protest in return?”

There’s a beat of silence accompanied by a blank expression. Steves heart shouting in his chest.

“...What?”

Steve continues, “Telling you what to do and how to do it. At least before you would fight me, yell at me. Make it easier to breathe.”

“Steve, what the fuck are you talkin’ about? You’re my boss. I’m s’posed ta take orders from ya.” Steve just about weeps when the Brooklyn accent begins to peek through, just as it usually does when Bucky is confused.

“Well, I’m not just your boss!”, Steve hears himself say, “I’m not just your boss. I’m also an omega. And I want you to tell me what to do. Your voice is like it’s permanently in alpha command, and I want you to fucking command me! Because I’m not just your boss. I’m not just an omega. I’m your fucking omega! And I can’t stand you saying my name like your seconds away from telling me to get down on my knees because you never do! And it isn’t your fault! It’s not! You don’t want me anymore, and that’s fine, but my omega hasn’t forgotten, and my heart won’t forgive you for not loving me anymore. So stop. Stop saying my name like you still want me. Because every time you do, for precisely one second, I feel like you’ve come back to me, but you haven’t- you won’t! And it’s killing me, Buck.”

Steve’s eyes are misted with tears, his chest heaving and skin flushed with embarrassment and shame, “Please… Just don’t say my name, or I’m just gonna break.”

The words pour from his lips, and he wants to disappear. He wishes the ground would just swallow him whole and save him from Bucky’s response.

Steve trembles beneath stormy grey, choosing instead to watch the ground. His omega whining and clawing at the back of his mind.

“I can’t do this anymore, Bucky.” He murmurs, waiting for the outrage or worse; the indifference-the clunk of footsteps walking away from the mess he’s made. The life they had. The man he no longer loves.

Steve hasn’t found his eyes again. Won’t move his head. He doesn’t care how submissive it makes him look because he’s spent most of his life searching for steel grey eyes in crowds and across rooms. Seeking them out in the dark, the only beacon of light he would see most days. And now… Now those eyes that kept him so safe when the world was crumbling around them made him feel like winter on a summer day, cold and alone, only seconds from melting into nothing.

He’s not sure how much time passes without a word between them. He waits another moment before surrendering a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, shaking his head and turning to leave.

He didn’t know where he was going, but he couldn’t stay here.

Like lightning, Bucky’s right hand snaps forward, catching the omega’s wrist before he can make it far, and just like electricity, a jolt of fire scorches where their skin meets.

As one would an old friend, Steve invites the sensation to consume him, feeling every nerve respond to Bucky, it’s like he was brought back to life, and he wants nothing more than to cry because he knows it won’t last. He knows as soon as the alpha lets go, he’ll return to reality as only half a man. Something-someone always missing from him.

“Steve.”, his breath hitches, and his hands shake. A whisper of a scent he’s all but forgotten seeps into the room, but it’s gone before Steve can determine if it’s only a memory.

Steve’s name rolls off of Bucky’s tongue too easily. Too pretty. Too dark. Too much!

Jesus!

Hadn’t he been clear enough the first fucking time? How else exactly was he supposed to phrase it; ‘Don’t say my name, or I’ll break from how horny it makes me?’

“Steve,” The alpha repeats.

Steve feels another pang of electricity shoot to his fingertips, itching with the need to just touch, “Bucky, I think you should leave.”

He doesn’t want him to. But when was the last time Steve got what he wanted.

“Now,” He adds after another second passes. Bucky's feet were firmly placed on the ground, not a single muscle prepared to even twitch.

The room is blanketed in heavy silence before, “No.”

Steve feels as if the wind has been knocked out of him. His lips part in surprise, brow furrowed as his heart begins to pick up the pace.

“Excuse me?”

“I hate that I can’t scent you,” The alpha announces, talking slow, calculated steps forward, eradicating any space brave enough to separate them,

“I hate that I can’t tell where you are during missions.” Suddenly Bucky’s grip loosens, yet it doesn’t move far. He runs his hand up Steve’s forearm, fingertips dragging across perfect porcelain skin, not stopping until the palm of his flesh hand rests on Steve’s neck.

“I picture what it would feel like to sink my teeth into your neck and keep you there, with my fangs in your flesh, drawing blood from your skin and moans from your lips. I dream of you whimpering, “ He whispers harshly, eyes trained to Steve’s neck.

The omega’s eyes flutter closed, lips trembling around the alpha’s name, “Bucky,”

Ignoring the blonde, the other man continues, not quite done yet, “I defend those thoughts by saying to myself, it’s all so that I can feel you. So I can feel where you are when we’re in the field. So I won’t worry as much, won’t get distracted. But I know it’s just half of it. I know I want to tell you to take those damn blockers off. To wash it away, or let me lick it away with my tongue-whichever came first.”

“I hate that I want to fall asleep with you curled above my chest because you’ll be warmer that way. And for whatever reason, I remember you always being cold before bed. I want to demand you buckle up and wear extra layers. I want you to fight me a little. I want you to tell me to shut up but get all soft when I give you a hard look. Like, you are now, with my chest touching yours, hands at your neck and waist. Your heart stuttering against me. I want you to tease me because you want me to get annoyed so that I tell you to shut your mouth and put it to good use. I hate that I want to do all these things, but I can’t. Because you don’t want me to...”

Blue pop open, held hostage by grey. Bucky is everywhere. His face is so close Steve can feel every breath the alpha takes fan over his eyelashes. His eyes tracking over the curve of pink lips and soft skin. Left arm curled around Steve’s waist, metal grip unmoving. His other hand still firmly placed over his scent gland, Bucky’s long fingers spread over the column of flesh, thumb running back and forth along the length of it, causing goosebumps to follow his trail of fire.

Steve moans at the sensation, baring his neck so Bucky has the access he would need. His legs nearly giving out beneath him, but the arm at his waist won’t let him fall.

“Are you telling me that you want me to?” Bucky presses. His voice is sharp and promising. The hand around Steve’s neck, a light pressure the omega finds himself pushing into.

“Steve! Look at me. Look at me, omega.”

The blonde hadn’t noticed his eyes fluttering shut again, the sensation of being held, of having so much alpha- his alpha right there in front of him. Soaking him in his scent. Not a true claim or even a scent mark, but this is more than he ever thought he would ever get again.

Bucky’s words have barely registered for the omega; he lost the ability to comprehend English the instant Buckys hands found his body. But he reacts to the order, all the same, seeing the steely, beautiful grey (beginning to tint red again) he has known since he was a boy.

Slowly, so slowly, Steve begins to piece together the things Bucky has confessed, his eyes once more welling with tears.

Patiently, Bucky waits for the understanding to reflect in sapphire eyes, speaking only when he knows the omega can now retain information.

“Are you telling me you want me to touch you, Stevie?” Bucky murmurs, staring at Steve’s bottom lip.

“Yes,” He breathes, just barely audible without an ounce of hesitation.

The next thing Steve knew, Bucky had him against a wall. His nose buried in his neck and his hands rounding his ass, using his shoulders to pin Steve to the wall and lift his legs until the omega joined the program and wrapped his legs around Bucky’s waist. Bucky’s hardening cock pushing into his hip.

“Oh shit, Buck!”

“ I have to say your name,” Bucky growls, grinding into his omega.

“As much as I can, even if it doesn’t work in the conversation, because it’s the closest I can get you in my mouth. It tastes like heaven, and memories I can’t decipher are real or just fantasy they- Oh, fuck baby. Yeah, Stevie- They don’t compare to this- Keep moving, just like that, babydoll.”

Steve ruts against Buckys friction, his eyes closed tightly, whatever was left of their blockers bleeding out, replacing the neutral aroma in the room with their combined scents, desperation, and slick.

“God, Bucky. I missed you so much. I’ve been so alone.”

Buckys mouth finds Steve’s trembling lips, nothing subtle or slow about his movements. The alpha’s tongue swallows the moans tumbling past Steve’s lips. Hands gripping his waist tighter.

The sun bursts behind their eyes. Blood rushing and hearts bumping to twice their regular speed. For different people, people who aren’t Steve and Bucky, a first kiss after so long should probably be slow and tentative, something soft and building. But they aren’t different people. They are too broken and too powerful and undeniably deserving people who have had nothing to count on besides one another their entire conscious lives. To entertain even a second of not indulging in hard, fast, desperate supersedes unthinkable and settles somewhere over cruel.

“Never again, Stevie. I ain’t leaving you alone” another thrust, “Ever, “ another bruising kiss, “Again.”

Bucky’s cock strains against his uniform, desperate for Steve’s hole. Steve is a withering whimpering mess, drunk on Buckys scent and high on all the delicious friction causing his weeping cunt to flutter, uncomfortably empty.

After several more minutes of making out, Bucky moves them back to the bed, lying Steve out on the mattress. He only has a fraction of a second to admire the work of art that is Steve Rogers sprawled out and waiting to be fucked when Steve’s hands are at his neck, pulling him back in.

His lips move against the alpha’s sloppily, sucking on his bottom lip until the ex-assassin growls impatiently, searching for his mate’s tongue. His mate…

His mate. Steve thinks he may cry as the sheer relief almost painfully washes over him. All of the uncertainty and shame of being unwanted melts away, and all that surrounds him is the vibrating want, mine, love, love, love from the man above him, trailing scorching hot kisses down his neck.

“I wanna be ‘side you, baby. Please, Steve. Let me, ugh, please, babydoll. Can I-”

“Yes!” steve interrupts, “Yes, Alpha, you never have to ask! I’ll do whatever you ask, oh just touch me, Bucky, alpha, my alpha, touch me-”

“Shh, “ Bucky chuckles, stopping the omega’s rambling. He runs his flesh hand through disheveled blonde hair, dragging his nails through Steve’s scalp and marveling at the hiss the omega releases, “I’ve got you, Stevie. All I needed was a lil consent, then all bets are off, aren’t they? ‘Cause you’re mine now, aren’t you, baby?”

“Always have been, jerk. I never stopped.”

“Good. Now, stop touching me.”

With a whimper, Steve can’t stop his hands from frantically clawing every inch of Bucky he can access.

“Now, babydoll, don’t you wanna be good for me?”

Still clutching one hand around Bucky's thick, muscular biceps, the other pulling at the strands of dark brown hair helplessly, “I can be good,” the omega babbles, “I’ll be good, Alpha. So good, I can be good, so so good. Please-”

“ Then listen to what I am telling you. I won’t repeat myself again, Steve. It’s my turn now. I wanna get my mouth on you, and I can’t do that if you keep pullin’ me back up to kiss. So stop touching.”

The moan that stutters past Steve’s lips would be embarrassing if not for how fucking fantastic it feels for Bucky’s alpha command to slam into him. Paralyzing him in place. Hands falling unceremoniously at his sides.

Crystal blues brimming with tears, he feels safe for the first time since coming out of the ice- he feels familiar. Not somewhere foreign with no understanding of anything besides, fight this, kill that. This is different. This is them. This is intimacy- their intimacy.

There’s trust swimming within the negative spaces Bucky extends, and he knows, to his core, he can let go. Steve surrenders all his false smiles and exhausting positivity. This is home. Bucky is home. He doesn’t have to put up a front because his alpha has it handled.

Steve isn’t Captain America or some beacon of hope. He’s just Steve, Stevie. Bucky's Omega.

He’s unsure how much time passes or where it went, to begin with, but his body sinks deeper into his mattress, feeling entirely boneless.

“You okay, baby?” Bucky’s husky voice breaks through the fog, “I lost you for a second there.”

Steve feels himself come back, callused hands running through damp blonde hair.

“Mmm,” he hums.

“You spaced a little, Stevie. You’re so beautiful when you get all soft for me. But you’re back now, aren’t you? Look at you. So perfect. Pretty, perfect omega-mine. Kept your hands at your side the whole time too. Such a good boy. You’re gonna keep your hands right where they are, Stevie. Don’t you move a fucking inch. I’m going to lick you open now, babydoll. And you’re gonna come on my tongue as many times as I want you to. Because I’ve gone 70 years without you, and I’m goddamned starved” Bucky’s voice goes from soft praise to near feral growls. His voice sending nothing but jolts of electricity down Steve’s spine, another wave of slick slipping down his thighs.

Before the ‘please’ has the opportunity to touch Steve's mouth, Bucky's hot, slick tongue finds his pulse point, just mere inches from his mating gland.

“Bucky!”

“I want this off!”, The ex-assassin grunts, in one swift move yanking the crisp white shirt from Steve's chest.

“Oh!”

Bucky backs up to lean on his knees, eyes tracking over pinkening skin. Steve’s own gaze glides over now exposed skin. Steve tries to finger out when he removed his clothes but falls short.

After so long without Buckys tenderly harsh commands, falling into space came a little easier than he would have thought. Overwhelmed by the unanticipated satisfaction.

“Open your eyes.”

When had Steve closed his eyes again?

“There you are, dolly. Keep those pretty eyes on me, okay? Always on me, baby.”

Rough, mouthwateringly calloused hands find the waistband of Steve’s pants and yank down in one fluid motion.

The blonde hisses for a moment at the sudden cold air biting his skin, but it only lasts a moment before he’s screaming.

“Fuck!” Steve throws his head back in favor of making sounds even a prostitute would blush at.

One moment Bucky’s on his knees, eyes predatory and sinful, calculating all the things he could do to the man shivering beneath his gaze, the next finds him throat deep, swallowing down Steve’s sweet omega cock, slurping up his precum and getting high off the scent of slick so close to his nose.

Steve can’t breathe.

God! It’s too much. It’s so good. It’s too good!

Steve can feel the familiar pull of an orgasm tugging inside of him. The corners of his closed vision whitening out around the black, lacking the energy to even feel embarrassed by how quickly he’s reached his pinnacle.

Pulling off agonizingly slow, Bucky lets his tongue harshly lick along Steve’s little shaft and twirl over his tip, remembering- fucking remembering! All the sounds and glazed looks elicited from the man below him in the past.

Grey eyes flick up hungrily, ravenous for a look into perfect crystal eyes; he can remember the glazed debauched expression that could devour Steve’s pupils, but it’s not enough!

He wants the real thing.

He wants something tangible and alive in his hands he can never again confuse with desire. Something he’s sure happened, a gift Steve is willingly offering instead of a snarled half-memory he can’t allow himself to believe.

“I-ugh! I’m gonna-“Steve stutters, toes curling and knees bending, framing Bucky's face between his thighs. His hands twitch beside him, but he doesn’t dare move them.

“Oh!”

It should have been a cry of ecstasy.

Should have been the Yellow River Flood; relentless and relieving. No survivors.

Instead, Steve is left with his chest heaving violently. Gasping for air just as he did when he was small.

The omega hears Bucky tutting before he manages to pry his eyes open. Immediately recognizing his mistake before the words fall from cum slick lips.

“Oh, baby. You were doing so good.”

“Nno! Buck, please!”

“Shhh, What did I say, dolly?” Bucky replaces his mouth with one strong hand, lazily jerking at Steve’s straining cock.

He’s smirking when Steve hisses beneath him and hums in approval when his hands stay at his sides.

“F-Faster! Please, Buck! Goddamn it, stop teasing’ me.”

“What did I say, Stevie?” Bucky repeats sharply. His movements slowing further.

Steve’s omega cries.

“You wanna cum, baby doll? “

“Yes!”

“Then what do you have to do?“

Steve’s mind has gone to mush. He thrusts his hips up, chasing after Bucky's friction. Hands struggling against the bedsheets.

“Still, omega!”

Bucky's voice is rough as sandpaper, sounding as on edge as Steve feels. A firm metal hand presses into the omega’s hip holding him in place.

“Be good, Stevie.” The alpha asserts firmly, scent growing muskier with every heavenly noise gasped and groaned from Steve’s sinful lips.

“If you wanna cum, what is it you have to do?”

Bucky rubs a metal thumb soothingly over a sinfully sharp hip bone before trailing his fingers over Steve’s quivering thigh.

Grey eyes nearly roll into the back of his head, “Fuck, baby, you’re so soft. C’mon, don’t you want me to touch you?”

“Yes! Please, fuckin touch me, you jerk!”

Chuckling darkly to himself, Bucky watches Steve with bated breath, and all at once, he feels like his mind had never left. Like an addict, he was never over his addiction; he just forgot how good it was. And like the degenerate addict he apparently was, he sucks in deep breaths, sucking in as much of Steve’s aroused scent that his lungs can handle.

All it took was one hit of Steve- his omega- and he had fallen into himself, more of who he was than any memory had offered.

Steve is his clarity and his habit. The one thing that will always bring him back because Steve is home.

And he’s gonna make him feel good. He’s gonna make up for all he put his omega through, and he’s gonna enjoy every second of it.

Every moan, every shiver, every cry. He’s gonna hold him and bruise him because Steve is his, and that’s how the omega likes it. Bucky��s omega. Bucky's Sweetheart. Bucky’s mate.

The ex-assassin lets his fingers trail lower, his other hand still just barely moving over Steve’s pulsing cock.

The first touch of cool metal meeting Steve’s hole causes the blonde to nearly jump off the bed.

“Buck!”

Steve thinks he’s gonna die.

He feels every cell in his body vibrating with a hot, hopeless sensation. Slick pours out of him the second Bucky’s teasing, perfect, godforsaken pinky circles Steve’s core. His lungs and eyes are burning, nearly out of breath, and only capable of volunteering a broken sob when that fucking pinky just barely pushes in.

“Please,” he whispers jaggedly.

He’ll be good for bucky. He’ll keep his hands at his side. He’ll do what he says even without the command, the fogginess of his brain settling deep enough that any request will register as a command anyway.

That’s just how Steve is wired.

Designed to submit to Buck’s direction.

He knows what Bucky wants, but to physically pry his eyes open at that moment was easier said than done. He struggled to determine whether or not he’s trying to starve off a quickly approaching orgasm or trying to chase one.

Whatever the answer, Bucky doesn’t let him reach it.

The alpha’s dark, whiskey voice sounds as wrecked as Steve feels.

“What. Do. I. Want?” Bucky growls impatiently. Another wave of slick dribbles from the omega wetting the sheets beneath them.

Think, steve! Give alpha what he wants! You can be good. I can be good…. What does he want again?

“My…ugh! M-My eyes.”

Finally, fucking finally, Bucky pushes a finger into Steve’s hole. Fast and absolutely delicious.

Just when he thought Bucky would stop playing games, he realizes the ringing in his ears is replaced by the alpha tutting above him.

“Very close, baby, but not quite.”, Buckys finger starts to draw out slowly; what little fullness Steve has is threatened, and the distressed mewl Steve makes in protest causes the alpha to chuckle darkly.

“P-pretty! Keep my pretty eyes on you! Only on you!” his eyes snap open frenzied, finding a swirl of grey and red zeroed in on him.

In a millisecond, Steve has two metal fingers thrusting into his hole. His back arches on the mattress, fingers nearly numb as they grip the sheets tighter, but his eyes don’t close again.

“That’s right, baby. Only on me.”

“Oh! Yes!”

“Fuck! You’re so tight, Stevie.”, Bucky groans, lowering himself as to mouth along Steve’s jaw, nipping his skin between tentative licks.

“Pl-Ease! Oh, yes... Please, Buck.”

“Please what, Stevie? Use your words.”

Steve’s mind is a simple stream of 3 thoughts, Touch me. Fuck me. Love me!; all of which he can only vocalize as, “Oh please, please. Bucky!”

Working a third finger along with the other two, Bucky hisses with Steve at the stretch his hole gives.

So fucking tight, the alpha thinks to himself, I don’t know how I’ll survive it, but I’m gonna fuck this omega so gooood.

“Words, Steve. Or I’ll start thinking you don’t want me t’touch ya at’all. Huh, maybe I should stop...”

“No! God, Buck, don’t stop, don’t ever stop!”

“Then tell me what you want. What a’you begging for, Doll?” Bucky trails the tips of his fingers over Steve’s ribs, rounding at his back, “is it my fingers? Sliding through all your slick? Or is it my mouth?”

“Yes!”

Bucky chuckles,” That’s not really an answer, Stevie.” His voice gets darker each time he says the omegas name like he knows. Actually, the bastard does know! He knows exactly what he’s doing.

The prospect of teasing seems to pull him just the tiniest bit to the side of coherent, a snarky remark falling from his lips as easily as the desperate pleas had moments before.

“You havin’ fun, Buck?” Steve pants, “Seems like you’re having a little too much fun.”

“Aw no, baby. I’m having the exact right amount of fun. Aren’t we?”

“ ‘We’ are a lotta peop-le!! Oh shit!” pushing his fingers in deeper, Bucky just brushes against Steve’s prostate. A sinister and smug smile curling his lips upward.

“Words, Stevie. Tell me what you want. And I’ll give it to you, omegamine. Just tell me.”

Steve’s chest flushes more as the words tingle on his tongue. Bucky's nearly feral tone betrays his suave and calm demeanor.

He’s just as desperate to be buried deep in Steve’s hole as Steve is to have him there.

Bucky’s fingers push more firmly against Steve’s prostate, and the omega nearly sees stars.

“Sing for me” Almost like an echo, Steve hears Buckys words like gospel.

It’s a command he’s most familiar with. He knows just what ‘ song’ Bucky wants ….

“Daddy!” Steve hisses around a fourth finger. The words punching out of him before he could stop them.

“ I wondered if that was just fantasy,” the alpha mumbles. Eyes darkening a rich crimson. An ever-present growl rumbling in his chest.

Bucky leans over, letting his fingers get even deeper, dragging against Steve’s special spot with every new thrust. With red eyes and diminishing control, the alpha drinks in every pant and whine that drips past kiss-bruised lips and bouncing off the walls of Steve’s room.

Bucky drops his nose into Steve’s scent gland, swiping his tongue over the swelling tissue for a better taste.

“You smell so fucking good, baby. Like mate.”

“Buck…” Steve gasps, feeling overwhelmed. Any moans he could possibly wish to suppress are yanked from his chest with every move the alpha makes. Sounds too rowdy even for porn echoing in his small dark room.

Bucky can’t get enough of it, stuttering an accidental thrust into Steve’s hip when the omega whines in a delightfully sweet way, the scent of slick and alluring sounds steve makes nearly choking him.

Fuck, I hope Tony has these rooms soundproofed. Steve uses his last brain cell to think.

Bucky's metal fingers continue to work him open, preparing him for his big alpha cock fast and rough and exactly how he likes it, but his other hand still moves sluggishly over Steve’s, slowly purpling prick. Tightening and stopping entirely every so often as to starve off Steve’s orgasm.

“Bucky, please!”

Fuck, Bucky thinks, I hope everybody can hear him, fuckin; hear us,

The blonde knows all he has to do is tell Bucky ‘Fuck me’ maybe add on ‘Daddy’ to further wreck him like it did back in the days if he even still likes that. But as much as Steve likes Bucky telling him what to do, he loves to defy him into aggression, twice as much.

“Say it again,” Bucky mumbles against the omegas scent gland, unable to move a millimeter.

The laugh that tumbles past Steve’s lips is quickly swallowed by Buckys tongue shoved down his throat. Pearly white teeth pulling back only to stress a bite on his bottom lip, not stopping until a faint taste of metal joins the deliriously delicious taste of Buckys omega.

“Again, omega. Say it again.”

With another brush against his prostate, Stev’s vision begins to blur, but he won’t close his eyes, no matter how much he wants them to,

“Alpha!”

Steve is a debauched disaster. A puddle of liquid fire and Bucky wanted to fucking burn.

“You know that’s not what I want to hear, babydoll. But I’m feeling generous, so let’s make a deal, yeah? You say what I want, and I’ll tell my precious boy how good he is. How good you feel around my fingers swallowin’ my fingers so fuckin’ good. And I’ll say your name as much as you want. That’s what you were beggin’ for, wasn’t it?” Bucky rambles, fingers pumping quicker into Steve, hand starving off the omegas dick, tugging over the length with dangerous precision.

“You want me to say your name, dontcha dolly? Tell you you’re being good. Everything Daddy needs. My good, beautiful Stevie.”

Buckys cock presses into the mattress, the slightest friction sending magic to tingle over his skin. His knot calls out for Steve’s sopping wet pussy, fluttering around his fingers. The sensation alone is a mutual torture all on its own.

It would be so fucking easy to slide home into Steve’s awaiting heat. So fucking easy!

Not yet, he reminds himself.

No, he wants something first, and he’s gonna get it.

Outside of the bedroom, the thought of ever using his alpha tone with Steve is unthinkable. There isn’t a scenario out there that could justify taking away his omegas free will.

But here-like this. Sweaty and drooling and filthy, reeking of mate and sex, the tone combines with his voice as if that’s the only way there is to speak.

“Say it again, Steve. Now!”

“Daddy! Daddy, fuck me! Please,pleasepleaseplease”

Gently, the alpha removed his fingers. Steve’s mouth opens to cry, but before he can focus too much on the dreadful emptiness, Bucly is buried to the hilt in Steve’s ass.

“Ah!” Steve shouts, throwing his head back and moving his hands to grip at Bucky’s shoulders for the first time since being told not to move them an inch.

He quickly realizes his mistake, and in a fearful attempt to keep Bucky inside of him, confident he wouldn’t survive another moment of his teasing, his alpha’s voice rumbles past the panic.

“Touch me. Wherever you want, Stevie.”

The sigh of relief is an afterthought, long nimble finger trail over both metal and flesh shoulders, a satisfying wave pushing into the realm of too damn good. Being allowed to touch after being denied was always such an experience. Reverse touch starved. Bucky has the go-ahead to do with him as he wishes. Meanwhile, every instinct within the omega seeks Bucky out. His skin, his mouth, his scent. He wants to feel his alpha under his fingers as much as he wants to bounce on Buckys, but he can’t. He has to lay there and fight against the urge to suck hickeys onto every surface of skin he can find.

Pulling on stands of dark chestnut-colored hair, Steve tries to adjust to the girth inside of him.

“Move.”, the omega whispers harshly after a few moments.

Bucky doesn’t need much prompting; he knows Steve can take it, and more than that, any remaining sting that prepping might have missed, Steve fucking aches for.

“As you wish.”

It’s like a dam break. A flood, unforgiving, and exactly what they each fuckin need!

Bucky's shallow, calculated thrusts soon quicken, taking on a brutal pace.

He slams his cock home and grinds deep before pulling nearly entirely out and slamming back in. Again and again and again. Returning quicker every time he finds himself back inside Steve’s velvet-soft heat.

Words are lost on the omega, choosing to indulge rather on feral groans and guttural whines, meeting every thrust and dragging sharp nails across Bucky's shoulders.

It’s all so much. Like a storm, heavy and pounding in their ears. And it all makes so much sense.

They’re a natural disaster. Bucky kisses like a hurricane, all lips, tongue, and teeth. Steve moves and squeezes his walls around Bucky's cock, no rhyme or reason to his actions, just passion, just I have to have this.

Kisses pouring down upon kisses like rain, soaking them in love, and Steve nearly cries.

He never thought he’d have this again.

The ex-assassin is a bit more vocal.

He can feel his release creeping up, desire warm and urgent low in his belly. But cumming before Steve is absolutely not an option. Half the fun was watching the poster child for purity throw his head back in ecstasy, beggin for ruin with Buckys name on his lips. And he’d be damned if he's gonna miss it in the cloud of his own pleasure.

“D-Deeper!” Steve whimpers, pulling Bucky closer by the nape of his neck.

The hand that had been knotted in Steve’s own hair follows suit of the palm firmly placed over one sharp hip bone.

Gripping him with enough pressure to bruise, Bucky bends over Steve’s lithe build and takes hold of one muscular thigh, nearly folding the blonde in half as he settles Steve’s leg over his flesh shoulder.

“Fuck!” Steve cries, Bucky's cock sliding that much deeper, hitting his prostate with nearly every thrust.

Bucky groans at the new position, one large hand kneading and pulling at Steve's ass, tugging him back with the snap of his hips. His other hand runs over the omegas sweaty, slick body, sliding a finger over a single hard nipple before securing his fingers around Steve’s neck. Palm pushing into his scent gland.

It is a little more than light pressure, but it gives its desired effect; Steve’s eyes go from unfocused and glassy to piercing. More black than blue, pupils blown, but Bucky still catches the glint of gold mingling about, exactly what he’d been waiting for.

There you are, omegamine, he thinks.

“Ugh, yes, fuck! You like that, don’t you. Like me pushing you down. Like me pounding into your sweet pussy. But it’s not really yours is it, baby?”

“Gnnn”

“Answer me. Who’s pussy is this, Steve?”

“Y-yours, Daddy. I’m yours.”

“Mine.” The alpha growls, yet another wave of slick passing Steve’s thighs. “My omega. My good boy. Listened so good, doll.”

“Fuck, Buck. Alpha, my alpha. I missed you, I missed you so fuking much. I missed your big alpha cock. So good to me. I wanna be good, Daddy. Tell me how to be good.”

“You wanna be good?”

“Yes!”

“You’re already so good for me. Perfect omega. Pretty, perfect thing.”

“I can be-ugh yes!! I can...nnnn….be better.” The omega stutters between kisses, “Wanna be the best boy.”

“Yeah?”

“Please, Alpha. Knot me!”

“Okay, baby. Listen closely, hmm?”

“Keep still.” In two mostly smooth movements, Bucky is lying on his back, Steve’s lean frame now straddling the alpha, lifting him by the waist; Bucky sinks Steve further on his cock.

“Ride me.”

As if without his permission, Steve’s moving above the bigger man.

Thick thighs feel even wider between Steve’s slightly smaller ones. Bucky’s hands come to Steve’s waist, helping him grind down harder, deeper.

Steve can’t keep his gaze from trailing down to where they’re connected. His hole swallowing 6 to 7 inches of monster alpha cock, and he could just cry for how hot it is to see them connected like this.

I wanna be locked to you. I want your knot!

“Eyes, Stevie!” Bucky snarls with another hash snap of his hips, impaling Steve further and hitting his prostate. The omega falls over, making sure to lock blue with grey.

Abandoning their vice grip on the alphas thighs, Steve steadies himself with one hand over his lover's heart, fingertips brushing the mating gland by his neck as the other grips the headboard above the bed, wood splintering under every shock of pleasure jolting through Steve in response to each of Bucky's strident thrusts.

“Oh, oh! D-Daddy. I’m gonna, I’m gonna cum!”

“Now that I’ve got you back, we won’t be leaving this room for much, Stevie. I want you on your knees sucking my big alpha cock. Licking up the evidence of what you do to me. I’ll hold you by your neck and force-feed it to you just like you like it.”

“B-Buck-eyy!”

“Yeah, baby, say my name. You’re beautiful. Angelic. A work of. Fucking. Art.” He punctuates his words with a sharp jerking of Steve’s body above him. Pulling his center as close as he can get him, knot swelling mercilessly and snagging on Steve’s rim.

Steve feels pleasure like he’s never felt before. Words slurred and hardly coherent,

“‘Wan’ yur k’nnot!”

He sounds drunk.

Bucky loves it!

“Not until you cum, baby doll. You first, then Daddy. Good boys get their rewards, and this is-” using Steve as a ragdoll, Bucky manhandles him into circular motions, twisting and penetrating the omegas sweet spot with wild precision.

One hand (Steve couldn’t even tell you which, mind too fuzzy and too loaded with his quickly approaching orgasm) presses into the omegas gorgeous tits before sweeping down to tug on Steve’s crying cock, pre-cum dribbling from its bright red head.

Steve cums with a shout, back arching and eyes struggling to stay open, finally shut. His vision whites out with pleasure, but he can’t bring himself to remember anything outside of this bliss. No world lived outside of these walls. Just him, his alpha, and all the pleasure Bucky brings him.

“Ohhh, Allphaa,”

“Yours. Yes! Oh, you feel- God so fucking tight, Stevie. Look ‘atchyou. Milking my cock, pussy squeezing my knot, beggin for it. Daddy’s gonna give it to you.”

“Gimme,” he whispers weakly.

He doesn’t feel Bucky flip him over or the hands pushing both his legs over Bucky’s shoulders, but the moment Bucky starts pumping in and out again, his body jolts awake, and all Steve wants is to make his alpha cum.

“Daddy’s gonna cum right inside your tight, perfect pussy. Yeah, Stevie. ugh!”

“Wan’ be...hmm.”, he tries to form words, but they die on his tongue, not coming down fast enough to entertain even a murmur of conversation.

Another 30 seconds passing before he has enough brain cells to return his gaze to stormy grey.

As always, Bucky’s eyes are already on him.

“That's all you got, Daddy?” The blonde snarks between pants, another orgasm building in his belly, toes curling, and his half-soft prick smushed and pulsating against Bucky's abs.

Bucky laughs around a moan, pulling Steve into another kiss before giving one, two, three more thrusts, shouting out a string of praise as his knot pops inside of his omega.

Steve’s heavy punched out sigh joins the shuddered fluttering of his hole, another wave of release escaping him.

The room fills with pants and sloppy kisses. Each man nosing along their scent glands, finding where a bond mark would go and lapping over it lovingly.

In the 40s, hiding their love was a matter of survival, and a surrender of their need to properly mate. They didn’t have to hide here. They could love each other and bite each other someday. Unified in the one way they spent most of their lives thinking they’d never have.

They Lie there, tied together even after Bucky’s knot goes down. Thoughts of taking that step-marking each other, on the tip of both of their tongues.

They lie there, bathing in the calm after the storm.

Sometime afterward:

After another round and many minutes of lazily making out, the pair rest beside each other, touching the other man wherever he could reach, tracing nonsense patterns into heated flesh and feeling happier than either had in 70 years.

“What were you sayin’, y’know before we… Y’know”, Steve blushes as if he wasn’t just face down ass up drooling over Tony’s Egyptian cotton sheets.

“Before you started crying for my knot, and I fucked you 6 ways from Sunday?”

“You’re a fucking jerk!”

“Nah, I’m just fucking a jerk.”, The alpha smiles, joy like nothing he’s been able to remember trips over his heart.

“I’m serious, Buck. Before we...did it”

“Ha!”

A sharp smack falls onto Buckys bare chest, “Fine! Before you came like a geyser up my ass-”

“Steve!” Bucky barks a laugh, loving the pink blush dusting over Steve’s cheeks despite the faux aggravation he was attempting to express.

“Will ya quit interrupting me? You fucking alphas are so rude!”

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry, Stevie. What were you saying?” Bucky concedes, the shit-eating grin doing nothing for the butterflies swarming the omega’s insides.

“You were saying that you couldn’t decipher real from what’s fake?”

Sighing, Bucky cards his fingers through Steve’s hair, not stopping, when the omega turns onto his stomach, exposing his back and facing the brunette. Bucky smiles down at the omega letting his hand slide down to his spine, tracing the smooth pale skin with the tip of his finger.

It’s freeing, liberating even, to let his hands and eyes roam wherever they want. After so many years of separation, then being reunited only to build unnecessary obstacles designed for the sole purpose of self-sabotaging, somehow they’ve found themselves again in the other man’s arms.

Bucky bends down to press a gentle kiss on Steve’s shoulder, loving the way the omega shivers beneath his lips.

I could just eat him alive…

“Buuuuck,” Steve shakes his head, smiling at the alpha underneath long lashes.

“Sorry, baby, you just look so sexy.”

“Oh, do I? Maybe it has a little to do with all the naked skin?”

Smiling goofily, Bucky allows his voice to get al sweet, “C’mere, smartass.”

Bucky pulls a yelping Steve into his lap, effectively laying the slender omega over his broad alpha chest.

The feeling is exhilarating. Bucky feels his stomach swoop and heart skip a beat, feeling more accomplished in this solitary moment entangled with Steve than in months of SHIELD work.

Steve grins despite himself. Settling against Bucky's chest, folding his hands in front of him and resting his chin onto his knuckles. Suddenly thrilled by the position.

He can stare into Bucky's eyes forever, and he has a sneaking suspicion the alpha won’t protest.

Cold metal fingers trail down Steve’s spine, eliciting a gentle quiver from the blonde man, shamelessly beaming beneath the attention.

“I remember how scared I would get in the winter.”

Steve’s brow furrowed in confusion, lying his head down onto his forearms and urging the larger man with his eyes to continue.

“I love that I can make you shiver now. But I think it would’ve just about wrecked me with worry back then.”

Bucky's flesh hand curls across Steve’s exposed waist, letting his heat seal into his fingers. His eyes close in relief. Like he’s remembered something… or rather; reminded himself of something.

“ I remember the worry best. The sleepless nights and evenings spent bent over pews, praying no one could hear your name falling from my lips because then they’d know… Know how much I wanted you. Wanted you to live. Wanted you to love me. Wanted you to be my omega. I remember going to work at the docks and feeling the bike rise in my throat as we talked about chasing tail when all that I fucking wanted was to make it through my shift and run my way home to you.”

Steve smiles fondly at Bucky. His head remains rested in the crook of his right elbow but reaches forward with his left to trail patterns on Bucky’s scent gland. Trailing back from his neck to his cheek, he will never understand how helpful he is just by existing.

“ I remember wanting you. I know there has never been a moment in which I existed, and I didn’t love you, even under hydra. Even when they told me- made me go after you. They had to wipe me twice before I stopped fighting… I should’ve kept fighting.”

“Buck-“ Steve’s tone is soft and reprimanding in the way only Steve Rogers could manage, but it’s not enough. The tears build behind grey and crimson. Shame burning him from the inside.

Bucky shakes his head, trying to shake away Steve’s tender touch.

Leaning forward, Steve ignores the alphas dismissal, warm petal-soft lips find Buckys, and he presses his weight deeper into his alpha.

“I’m here. With you. You stopped, Buck. You never, not for a second, stopped fighting! That wasn’t you.” Steve’s tone was loving and firm in the way only Steve Rogers could ever manage- or could ever feel for Bucky Barnes.

Bucky's eyes find crystal blue, and for a moment, he’s thrust back into his mind, his heart thrashing and growling, crying Not him! Not Steve. Stop! God damn it! You’re hurting him! We can’t hurt him!

For a moment, Steve’s sweet pink cheeks are bruised and bleeding, split by Russian metal and the free will Bucky was robbed of.

“Bucky!” Steve whispers harshly, just on the edge of frantic, “ C’mon, alpha. Don’t leave me alone again.”

“I’m here.”, Bucky chokes out, “ I’m here, baby. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

They hold each other for, neither of them speaking. Foreheads pressed together between grabby hands pushing firmly against heated flesh.

A reminder…

I’m alive. You’re okay. We’re together.

“ I remember those things; that panic of possibly losing you, very easily,” Bucky continues, “ And then… it started as flashes. Split seconds. But god, did I chase after them. It would be something minimal at first. You lying down on the bed or smiling at me over a sketchbook. But then they changed, and your head was thrown back, and the things you were drawing were us-naked. And I started hating myself because my fucking crush on you was filtering in on my memories of you, and it wasn’t fair. It felt real, but I knew it wasn’t or-“

“But they are real, Buck. We’ve always been us. This way! Laws be damned! We loved each other, and no one was gonna tell us we couldn’t have that!”

“It didn’t matter, though,” Bucky adds.

Steve shoots up off his chest, kneeling on the mattress, and as naked as the day he was born. More hurt than he thought he could ever be in his alphas arms, “ Of course it did. How could you say that? Wha-”

Bucky sits up quickly, reaching out, but Steve swiftly evades him, feeling colder than Brooklyn in February.

“Steve-“

“No! How could you say that? It matters! We matter. You matter. I fucking matter, Bucky! I lost you. You died! You fell off that train, and my alpha died!” he cries,

“I flew that plane into the ocean not because Captain America’s nobility prevails, I did it because l was grieving and life wasn’t worth living without you.”

“Steve-“

“No! Shut. Up.” Steve growls, but it sounds more like a whine.

“I died too, Buck. And woke up to a life I didn’t want either. Not just like you. I know what you went through was unthinkably cruel. But living without you was a prison sentence. And I had no choice but to wear red, white, and blue in place of orange and serve out my life miserably and without you. And that mattered.”

“I know, Stevie, I know. I’m sorry, that’s not what I meant, baby.”

“Then how else did you mean it?”

“There were things that I saw or remembered-whatever! But neither matter because fantasy is something that can never happen, and if it’s a memory, it will never happen again.”

Steve can feel his heart breaking in his chest. Angry and more than a little offended, he can practically feel the anguish emanating from his alpha’s skin.

“Because you wouldn’t want the blood-soaked into my hands to touch you. To touch your pretty perfect body, so I say your name, and I can’t stop because my alpha is always just before feral, and you are the only thing keeping Me on the side of sane. I know you matter. You’re the only thing on this entire fucked up bullshit infested planet that matters!”

“But the thought of losing you based on things I simply wanted and not what you needed from me? It didn’t matter- nothing mattered beyond you. I thought you wanted Bucky Barnes, the closeted best friend. I couldn’t trust myself to believe you wanted me in the 40s, and I couldn’t hope that if you had, you’d want me still.”

“You’re an idiot,” Steve sighs, eyes misting, but he lets himself be drawn in by strong, vulnerable arms.

“...I think I understand what you mean, though.”

“Yeah?”

“I wanted to say I miss you ao many times. But then I just...couldn’t. I thought it wouldn’t change anything, so I just kept pretending I didn’t. But then there are days when I wake up, and the fact that it’s without you won’t let me pretend anymore.”

“Now, who’s the idiot?” Bucky chuckles, brushing strands of hair from those hypnotizing blue eyes.

Bucky lets the Sympathy, understanding pool from his scent and settle over Steve like a warm blanket.

Smiling, Steve takes the comfort from his alpha in stride, “Of course, I talk like an idiot, Buck. How else are you ‘posed to understand me?”

Huffing a quick laugh, the ex-assassin feels all the love for this omega shine in a smile, “You’re such a fuckin’ punk, y’know that little omega?”

“ I’m your fuckin’ Punk, and besides, I’m not so little anymore.”

Whatever faithless semblance of decency they had left swiftly deteriorates as Bucky fully settles Steve into his lap, lying back into the cushions and pulling the duvet over them both.

He presses a soft kiss on Steve’s forehead and whispers with as much meaning he can muster, “You’re perfect, omegamine. Fuckin’ perfect! Perfect for me, you hear?”

Steve releases a joyful giggle,” I hear. Are we going to sleep, Alpha?”

“Yep!”

Snuggling deeper into the alpha’s chest, Steve feels content for the first time in what feels like forever, loving how perfectly he still fits in Bucky's arms, even all beefed up by the serum. Not a single gap between them.

“You comfortable, sweetheart?” Bucky asks happily. Certainly hearing and feeling Steve’s pleased purring.

“ I’m warm,” The omega mumbles, exhaustion barreling into him.

“Good. Sleep, Stevie. We'll talk more in the morning.”

Steve doesn’t respond, just nuzzles into his alpha more until his nose is close enough to the source of the brunette’s scent, humming satisfaction as he sniffs pleasantly.

“I never thought I’d get to have this. That you’d be in my arms like this. I thought I’d spend the rest of my life just pining after you-loving you. I love you, omegamine. I love you so much.”

Steve replies in soft snores, but Bucky doesn’t care. He presses a kiss to the top of ruffled blonde hair and falls asleep with a smile on his face.

He doesn't mind that Steve fell asleep because nothing else matters besides his blue-eyed beauty. Not when he has this. Not when Steve is soft and asleep and warm. He has the rest of his life to tell his omega he loves him.

One thing is for sure.

Bucky will never stop saying Steve’s name.

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river-bottom-nightmare · 4 years ago

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Dick and Wally together are sports culture.

Different tennis shoes littering the hallway, worn out and held together by duct tape. Traded shoelaces, so they both have a piece of each other wherever they go. Different patterned leg warmers as Christmas gifts. Early morning stretching, just the two of them sitting on the floor of their apartment, Dick leading and Wally following, working the soreness out of their muscles. Random equipment for sports they don’t even play in the closet. Cold and refreshing showers. Eating so much food, both relatively healthy stuff and pure junk. A Flash water bottle with a Nightwing keychain. A Nightwing water bottle with a Flash keychain. Using the doorframe as a pull-ups bar. Washing the sheets every other day, not because of all the sex (though the sex is often) but because one of them will come home, all sweaty from a workout, and just collapse on the bed for a couple minutes before taking a shower. Daring each other to show off parkour skills in civvies. Jumping into a pickup basketball game with a bunch of strangers, ending the game with a group of new friends. Buying deodorant whenever the go to the store bc you can never have too much deodorant. Trailing off sentences and just staring because holy shit those are some nice back muscles and biceps. Actually decent sleep schedules.

Jason and Roy together are peak casual academia.

Everyone knows Jason spends his free time reading literary classics. And everyone knows the grease on Roy’s fingers won’t ever wash out. Bookshelves crammed full of old paperbacks, everything from Wuthering Heights to The Optimist’s Daughter to The Importance of Being Earnest. Goggles shoved over green eyes and a freckled nose as an invention sparks to life in rough hands. The Hitchhiker’s Guide To The Galaxy is a guilty pleasure of both of theirs. Thousands of pens littering an apartment for scribbling down notes whenever they strike. Jason poking plot holes and other criticisms faster than a bullet, character analyzations sharper than his jawline, a lecture about the problem with many contemporary and modern novels longer than his dick. Excited rambles way too early in the morning about some new polymer Roy can work into his arrows. Jason tutoring students in both Lit and Spanish at the public library. NPR playing on the radio. Being in a bent over position for so long they sigh in relief when the other offers them a back massage after smirking when they let out a pained groan. Never throwing anything away because you never know what could be useful.

Tim and Kon together are skate culture.

Tim wraps his boards with tape because, even though he has to replace it every couple of weeks, he likes the designs. Kon sets some time aside every couple of nights to make sure his rollerblades are doing okay, unscrewing and rescrewing the wheels becoming a habit. Tim’s jeans are ripped to hell, but he still wears them over and over again, saying “I’ve got kneepads it’s fine.” Kon wears his round red sunglasses with increasing frequency; Tim says it makes him look like a dork but Kon knows he secretly likes it. Tim likes taking aesthetic photographs of Kon while skating, and since he’s a damn good photographer, the pictures turn out beautiful. Kon likes taking pictures of Tim, but he’s not as good and he uses a blurry iphone camera. Even so, they’re in-the-moment and raw and Tim loves them anyway. Kon loves practicing tricks: skating backwards on his in-lines has become a smooth, practiced motion for him, his misfits are vicious, his savannahs make spectators terrified he’s stumble and fall. He does them all, with a rakish grin, and comes to a stop with his head held high for applause. Tim, on the other hand, just skates. he’ll roam the streets and sidewalks of Gotham, mindlessly pushing his skateboard, going over pits and bumps with practiced ease. The constant, repetitive motion is a form of meditation for him, but still active enough to keep his mind alive. Every week Kon changes his nail polish color, and usually it’s Tim painting his nails for him. Tim’s wardrobe consists entirely of 6 or 7 oversized sweatshirts and sweaters, and when he’s not cycling through those same clothes over and over again, he wears Kon’s shirts. They hang loose on his frame, but that makes him love them even more. Kon rarely ever takes his fingerless gloves off. In contrast, Tim’s knuckles are constantly busted up to hell. Ton’s got a bold undercut that would look stupid and try-hard on anyone else, but somehow, it works really well for him. Tim’s hair is always just a little overdue for a haircut. The two of them have so many socks, like a huge drawer full of them. They’re patterned and textured, long and short, and they’re constantly in use. Tim collects stickers to overlay the bottom of his board with. Kon gets around the city as a pedestrian wearing roller blades more often than actual shoes. The kids frequenting the skate park are a second family.

Damian and Jon are art culture.

Charcoal and marker ink staining Damian’s hands. Callouses littering Jon’s fingertips, because he never pulls up his invulnerability when playing. Blank canvases that rarely get used in the closet. Screenshotted and printed out sheet music never in the folder they’re supposed to be in. Damian hiding spray paint cans from Bruce. Humming at all hours of the day. Homemade paper lanterns as decorations. Pencils in a leather pencil case. Pencils in a two dollar plastic case. Pencils on the sheets of the bed and in a cup near the sink and on top of the coffee table. A guitar pick collection that never gets used. Refusing to buy new sketchbooks, arguing in vain that they’re reusable. Jon bsentmindedly playing out a melody on the piano when he’s thinking. Paint splattered jeans. A painted denim jacket. Tuning a violin regularly but always forgetting to rosen until it becomes a necessity. Damian drawing all over Jon’s arms. Falling in love with the stranger ones of the old composers. Beautiful handmade cards for every required occasion. Drawings and paintings based off a piece Jon played. Sweeping and emotional music pieces based off something Damian created. Half finished sketches of Jon littering every sketchbook Damian ever gets. Days of playing the same chords over and over again before being struck by an idea for a song. “I made this for you.”

yes i am aware roy’s characterization in this is based off rhato which is a terrible characterization to begin with. no i do not care. look at how fucking long tim and kon’s is i’m not sorry

tag list: @woahjaybird @birdy-bat-writes @anothertimdrakestan @subtleappreciation @screennamealreadyused @pricetagofficial @catxsnow @bikoncon @dangerduckjpeg

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onebizarrekai · 5 years ago

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v3′s art is comically terrible for a professionally distributed game in a series: a compilation

in this not-essay I will list all of the mistakes and problems I have spotted in v3′s art. don’t worry, it’s entirely for fun and I’m doing this on a whim, so please feel free to not take this seriously but also it’s hilarious and embarrassing how ridiculous this is like what happened did they speedrun the whole production or what

see, there are some things you can take as meta like “they made it bad on purpose to allude to the downfall of tv shows that have been on air for much too long” but I have a very strong feeling this is not the case due to the nature of some of these errors

disclaimer, the more I study this art, the more I fear that the artists were underpaid and underslept, so if this is in fact the case, I am so sorry to all of them but also I’m going to make fun of the art anyway

anyway let’s get started!

if you study this image for longer than 5 seconds, you will see that kaede is the only one fully shaded and keebo is literally just his normal sprite pasted into the image. every other character is just an ordinary ref, hence most of them facing the exact same direction with neutral expressions on their faces. it looks like a bad edit, and is probably one of the worst pieces of art in the game. it kind of gets better from here on, but my roasting will not.

with that out of the way, here’s the problem that officially bothers me the most and clarifies my viewpoint of “this is not meta and an actual lack of company communication”

this freaking cg, which seems normal at a glance, but some wiseass was like “oh, kaede is a girl, so obviously she’s going to be shorter than the Male Protagonist™” ah, that’s funny. because if you look at the character bios, kaede is, in fact, one inch taller than shuichi and not like 6 inches shorter as she is shown here.

also shuichi’s shoulder is disproportionate and horrendous and he looks vaguely like a jojo character, but I wasn’t even thinking about that until right now.

thanks guys, 50% of the fandom who has never bothered to check these bios thinks that kaede is like 5′3 (did the developers really put so little thought into her to the point where drawing her correctly in the game didn’t even matter??)

also I would like to point out that, even though this isn’t related to the art itself, yes, a character kaede’s size being only 117 lbs is unfeasible, but this applies to literally every character in danganronpa ever and it’s not new news that it’s unrealistic

update: someone in the tags informed me that in versions of the game that use centimeters, like the japanese version, kaede is actually shorter than shuichi, which just adds another thing to the list of weird decisions the localization team made for no reason. that said, after confirming this, kaede is 167 cm in the original, while shuichi is 171 cm, which are approximately 5′6 and 5′7 respectively, but one inch is still nowhere near as drastic as it is depicted above. (in spite of this, I would rather depict kaede as slightly taller, so I’m probably going to keep doing that.)

the journey continues!

bro if you want kaede to have shoulder length hair then stick to it to begin with

you can pretend this is at an angle all you want but they definitely committed the shorter kaede sin a second time

wait a goddamn second.

DO YOU SEE THIS

no………… it wasn’t kaede who shrank. it was shuichi who got taller

speaking of which, can we talk about how shady the perspective is in this elevator pic? look at shuichi and kokichi in comparison to kaede. kokichi, who is canonically 7 inches (edit: or 5, if you’re loyal to the original) shorter than kaede, looks taller than kaede. he’s growing too. what steroids are these gays taking

running into the room, electric boogaloo: I don’t think tsumugi is supposed to be the same height as kokichi

gonta… gonta you’re lookin a bit like a jojo character there

I love how kaito’s head looks kind of like it was pasted onto his body. why is he the same size as shuichi? shouldn’t he be high school bully size or something? his torso is teensy

ah yes, white angie.

I love this cg but why is shuichi’s right hand so much bigger than his left hand

I also love how this cg looks like they literally took pictures of trees and pasted them into the background, especially on the left. the shadows are so weird, especially closer to the ceiling, it’s difficult for me to believe they didn’t do exactly that.

return of Enlarged shuichi

puberty update: kokichi is now taller than shuichi in spite of shuichi never missing leg day. what crimes will he commit

I have to mention it, guys. this has to be one of the worst danganronpa cgs. kokichi’s facial proportions look atrocious. look at the way his face sticks out like his jaw is in the wrong place. his scarf is a pasted texture. that’s it. this moment was so iconic but the cg just looks so… so… off. like something is terribly wrong, but you can’t put your finger on it.

you know what? let’s get into that ‘pasted texture’ thing.

let’s imagine you’re an artist working on a professional game. you’re assigned to draw cgs of kokichi ouma, who has a checkered scarf from hell. sure, it will be terrible to draw, but you only have to draw it once at a time! plus, perspective is pretty important, right? can you be bothered? nah, actually. let’s just copy paste a checkered pattern into the cg, because I’m sure nobody will notice. it’ll blend right in with the other cgs that someone actually put effort into drawing his scarf in, right?

no. the answer is no and I very much noticed. this genuinely looks terrible and I would understand taking a shortcut like that in fanart or even an indie game but this is a full price pc and console distributed game

(an addition: look at kokichi’s TINY HANDS in that last one)

meanwhile, they straight up forgot to color in kokichi’s scarf in this cg.

dude. I forgot about whatever the hell this cg was. anyway look at keebo please just look at him

lovin kaito’s baby arms

real talk, maybe you could argue that he’s missing muscle because he’s deathly sick, but most of his cgs don’t line up with this, and his arms just look disproportionate to his torso size (granted this is a consistent problem across all danganronpa games and a lot of characters have this weird problem, like hajime, but also kaito is bigger than hajime so I kind of have higher expectations of him) maybe it’s his stupid goatee and the way he reminds me of yasuhiro?? it creates this illusion that he’s older than he is and so I keep expecting him to look more like an adult

oh, also rantaro is missing some of his accessories in that video he made–you know the one–but I don’t wanna go back and screenshot it

also you may have noticed that I’m skipping all of the monokub cgs because I literally do not care about them and I’m not even bothering to check and see if they have artistic mistakes in them

JIMMY NEUTRON???

hey um uh kaito you seem to be missing your neck

hey guys do you like my pregame fanart

so, that done, the sprites are also pretty terrible at times. they’re not as interesting to go through, however, and downloading the full sprite sets for every character and studying every single one of them will drive me insane, so I’ll just sum some of the ones I noticed up. I made things for kaede and shuichi before deciding I wasn’t going to get into it, so here are these.

that said, other mistakes include kokichi missing his purple highlights in all of the sprites encompassing a specific pose, stray pixels all over the place on everyone, and everyone also has heavily inconsistent shading, but literally all I think about is how pregame shuichi is unshaded and two of kaede’s pregame sprites have glaring outfit change mistakes in them

anyway, thank you for taking the time to read my ridiculous ramble. in all seriousness, there’s this looming presence of some lack of communication in the development team, like with all the art and design inconsistencies, pieces and sprites that look rushed, stray pixels, and missing basic proportional stuff. these are the kinds of things that you supposedly have to pretty much have in the bag in order to get jobs in professional businesses, so it’s really weird to me that this game suffers from so many of these problems. it’s like they tried to make the art so much more crisp than the other games, but it fell on its face as they realized it was going to take longer to draw everything and they started to rush. it’s weird, because the coloring itself looks normal–it’s just sloppily drawn, and the proportions are a mess once put into the context of perspective. many of the cgs look like they were drawn by different people, and I’m still not over the fact that half of kokichi’s cgs have his scarf pasted in as a texture.

the moral of the story is that if you’re selling a game at full price that also happens to be in a series that has had 3 very good games in it already the stakes should probably be higher than this. v3 has been out for more than 3 years and it’s still $40 (did it cost more than that before? I sure hope not), and the overarching quality of the game is just not as high as the other games. I’m not saying that the other games don’t have any problems with their art at all, they’re just not as glaringly obvious and every artistic choice in those games feels intentional.

regardless, I had a blast roasting the art at 2am, so maybe you got a kick out of all this chaos.

#god I keep telling myself I'm gonna stop rambling about v3 #v3 spoilers #drv3 spoilers #ndrv3 #random stuff #but making this… it sounded so fun #danganronpa

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my-soul-sings · 4 years ago

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Going to a haunted house with Artem

A/N: I’m too lazy to write a full fic today so here is a random headcanon thing I thought of in the spirit of Halloween (even though it’s already 1 Nov here for me lol) :)

Going to a haunted house with Artem:

Artem isn’t scared at all, much unlike the squeamish people all around him in the queue. Haunted houses merely consist of props, elaborately painted faces and well-timed jumpscares at every corner turn. He knows for a fact that there’s nothing supernatural about the affair, which is why he’s never been much fun at haunted houses; he usually leaves feeling bad for the actors who did their best but failed to scare him.

Still, he immediately caved the moment she invited him to accompany her to the latest and most popular haunted house attraction at the Stellis theme park. Apparently, she had won a pair of tickets from a lucky draw and he had been her first pick for her invitee. Of course, he jumped at the chance, lest she invited some other guy along with her.

On the night in question, Artem can feel her increasing nervousness the closer they get to the front of the queue. He takes her clammy hand in his and gives her a reassuring smile. “It’ll be fine. I’m here.”

His words don’t help that much, but they coax an uncertain smile from her. She’ll be fine. He’ll probably be enough of a killjoy that the actors won’t be motivated to put on their scariest performance.

“The reviews said this haunted house is pretty scary. I heard a lot of people peed themselves. Someone even fainted in there,” she tells him, before startling slightly at the sound of a shrill, distant scream.

“They could have been exaggerating. You know, for publicity.”

“True, but—”

“Good evening!” A staff member interrupts her mid-sentence. “The two of you are up next. Just follow the signs and head on in. Have fun!” The staff member then happily escorts them towards the entrance of the haunted house attraction.

A dismembered and bloodied mannequin guards the wooden door, and he feels her grip on his hand tighten. Artem has a bad feeling that there will be no blood supply to his hand for the entire duration of their journey.

The journey through actually isn’t all that bad. Artem gets why the attraction has so many good reviews; the ominous music, elaborately designed rooms and hidden places for the actors to deliver their well-timed scares all make for a very good, haunting experience.

Unfortunately, he can’t really say the same for her, or for his hand that has probably lost feeling about five minutes ago. His ear is also ringing from the number of times she inadvertently screamed right into it.

On the bright side, he’s learning a lot about her today.

For one, she’s very easily scared. The actors have figured this out probably just from a glance at their faces, so it seems most of their “attacks” have been trained on her rather than him, despite Artem doing his best to shield her from them. At this rate, she’s going to end up in tears.

For two, she has a surprising amount of expletives in her vocabulary that he’s never heard until today. He can already tell that she’ll be apologising profusely for it later, but he doesn’t mind it all that much. Besides, he did say “fuck” once when one of the actors swung a loud chainsaw at him. That one had taken him by surprise.

By the time they’re out of the haunted house, he can tell that she’s drained and completely shaken up. Her cheeks are streaked with dried tears and it’s clear she’ll need a while to regain her bearings after enduring that much in just... fifteen minutes? It definitely felt longer than that.

To top it off, there was a final scare waiting for them just outside of the exit, and she had almost fallen to the floor from the shock. It was a good thing Artem grabbed her before she could land squarely on her bum.

“That was embarrassing. Sorry you had to see all that...” she tells him once they’re a good distance away from the haunted house. “Is your hand okay? I might have grabbed it too hard earlier.”

“It’s fine.” It’s a lie, but she doesn’t need to know that. To prove his point, he takes her hand in his once more, leading her in the direction of the ice cream truck parked a short distance away. “How about some ice cream? My treat.” He remembers reading somewhere that ice cream is a popular comfort food, and his hunch was right; very soon she’s back to her normal, cheerful self and they decide to explore other less frightful attractions in the theme park together.

Conveniently, their hands remain joined for the rest of that night.

#tears of themis #tears of themis headcanons #artem wing #artem wing headcanons #tears of themis artem #my writing #my headcanons #also my friend told me about this super lame horror story she read #and it was lame #but #I STILL GOT A TAD PARANOID #i rly dont do well with horror #need an artem mind shield #ghosts arent real ghosts arent real ghosts arent real

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ooh-dream · 4 years ago

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My laptop took pulled a Schlatt and had a heart attack when I really wanted to draw. Have some concepts of Dream's villian costume from @dreamsclock beeduo superhero fanfic

I've noticed I post a lot of WIPs but never finish them lol.

I explain my thought process under the cut if you wanna check that out lol

Dream's design is more modern, but I know we expect nothing less from him (simple, not too flashy, and practical) so I took main inspiration from Manhunt attire.

None of this is colored (sorry) but the color palate for his costume consists of darker shades, relying heavily in browns, greens, and blacks. His hair's gonna be a sandy blonde and his skin will be a little tanned (super paranoid and spends most of his time indoors = his old tan fading).

Yes, Dream's wearing a sleeveless hoodie.

The strap is for his machete because I realized his powers didn't do physical damage so he needs a machete to be cool. No, I didn't draw the machete (it brought me too much pain). Yes, I could've done an axe but in my defense a machete sounded cooler (Also, you know, the sex appeal. All the whores wield machetes /j). His tattoos look like smoke and for some reason I though his powers were necromancy for a hot minute so you can thank my piss poor memory for them, lmao.

The smile on the back of his hoodie looks familiar, right? That's because it's from the Dream's Halloween merch! The face is a new addition that was actually added by Ranboo himself. Most would miss it when Dream's machete is strapped to his back but it's probably the most interesting because it was designed by Ranboo and actually represents the teen himself as well as symbolizes how deep Dream’s affection for and trust in Ranboo really goes. I just like the idea that Ranboo saw it as cool but ultimately inconsequential to their relationship but in reality it’s a huge deal for Dream. Also it glows purple in the dark so that's neat. :)

I hope you like it Sparrow!

#dreamwastaken #dream fanart #dream smp #i swear i'll finish this #lol #i just got my laptop fixed #I lost everything but let's just start fresh baybeeeeee #im in so much pain!#i had so many ideas for Ranboo #and then i forgot they had set powers #rip #some of this includes hc #for Sparrow's fic #dreblr #Ooh-art

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a-supernatural-writer · 4 years ago

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hcs for poly! tlb with a fem! s/o who’s style is dark academia and is really blunt/logical and smart. she basically gives off a ‘mysterious, quiet, dark, critical’ vibe (she also doesn’t really know how to handle people who are extremely emotional and she doesn’t know how to soothe someone. she’s just really oblivious/clueless when it comes to others feelings). i’m so sorry if what i requested doesn’t make sense or if it was too much. i am seriously incapable of writing anything without making it look like an essay lmao. love your work btw 💕✨

Dark Academia Fem! S/O

Poly Lost Boys x Fem reader

I had so much fun writing this! I love the dark academia aesthetic! And it made perfect sense and it wasn’t too much! Having a lot actually helps me expand and write more so thank you. And I’m the same, once I have an idea, I write a lot, so you’re all good! And awww!!! Thank you!!! 💗💗✨✨ I really appreciate it! I hope you enjoy!

Okay, so you are very different compared to the large number of characters on the boardwalk. Your style consisted of button shirts, sweaters or turtle necks, dress pants or a plaid pleated skirts, cardigans or waistcoats, oxford shoes or even wire framed glasses if you wore them for seeing or just for the look.

To say that you caught the boys attention would be an understatement. You seemed to stand out amongst the crowd and they became curious. You were a mystery to them and they love the challenge.

Somehow, someway, after days or weeks later, you became good friends which soon lead to you dating four trouble making punks. It was tough on both parts, but it happened, and hey, you weren’t complaining.

You were very blunt when you first met them, not really interested in them and more or less interested in the book in your hands. It took a lot of “accidental” run ins to even get you to hang out with them.

You slowly opened up when they offered to take you out for dinner at a local diner. They’re constant joking soon had you letting out small, almost whisper-like giggles and tiny smiles that sent them into a frenzy.

When you would start talking about yourself, your ideas of fun were different from theirs. You liked museums, opera houses, bookstores and going to theaters to see plays. The games you played were chess and cards, and the music you listened to was old. You were pretty sure they thought you were boring but you actually peaked their interest.

After a while of being friends with them, they asked you out. You liked them and the only logical step was to see if you liked them the same way they liked you was to date them, so you said yes.

In general, them having a girlfriend with a 1940s/1950s dark prep look was fun. David and Dwayne like it the most. Paul next, then Marko.

David actually really likes picking out your clothing on most days. You have an extensive collection of clothing with material from cashmere to linen, all the colors consisting of browns, black, cream and even a little dark green.

His favorite thing to put you in is trench coats. Doesn’t matter what color it is, he just likes seeing you in them. Also, there are a handful of times that he has MADE you wear his trench coat. Yeah it almost swimmed on you, but he thought it made you look cute and it fit in perfectly with your look.

Dark academia isn’t only your style, but it’s your way of life. David is the one that plays chess with you. You had to reteach it to him and pretty soon, the two of you had your own little set up in the cave that was always ready for a game of chess.

David is sort of like you… in a way when it comes to others feelings. But deep down he knows that he really likes you and tries to show it the best he can. He took you to a theater to see a play that you were constantly talking about and so he took you on a date. You being you, didn’t realize that’s what it was until he told it straight to your face. Let’s just say you were speechless for the next hour.

Also, when it’s just the two of you, deep inside the cave where your nest is, classical music is playing from your record player. It could be Beethoven, Tchaikovsky or Mozart. Whoever it is, David is the one that will listen to it with you the most. I think he really enjoys classical music and he enjoys it even more if the two of you are cuddling in your bed.

Occasionally Dwayne would join the two of you. You would be sitting in between David’s legs as Dwayne sat in between yours, his head leaning back against your chest. It was like a cuddle pile… cuddle train?? Whatever you wanted to call it, it was cuddling while the three of you relaxed listening to classical music. And it was darn cute.

Dwayne loves listening to you go on and on about any books you were reading at the moment. Whether or not it was nonfiction or even about any type of history. He was down. He lived through a lot and he knew about half of the stuff you gushed on about, but for some odd reason, it never bored him when you talked about it.

He would be the one to get you new books, leaving you sweet little notes tied to them. Of course you thought it was just him being nice and thanked him for it without thinking there was any romantic meaning behind it. Yeah he was one of your boyfriends but it never really crossed your mind that way. He would just shake his head at your obliviousness and give you a small peck on the lips.

Don’t ask him why, but his favorite look on you is a light cream colored blouse with a plaid skirt and Mary Jane shoes. Dwayne is a leg man so… he’s very happy when decide to show off some skin if you decide not to wear knee-socks or stockings with it. Even if you did wear them, he would still be attached to your side the entire night.

Like David, Dwayne would bring you out to a lot of places that were opened late at night. If there was an art exhibition in town or even a museum that was open late, just say the word and he will happily drive you on his bike. Heck, David might even tag along.

Also, late night bookstore dates… oh my heart, it’s too sweet it hurts. There are times that he does have to throw you over his shoulder when the bookstore is closing and you're pretty much refusing to leave. When he does that, you just stay frozen over his shoulder, not knowing if you should be blushing or cursing at him for carrying you like a sack of potatoes.

If anything, you and Dwayne connect very well. You’re naturally very quiet and so is he. Not much is said between you two but there's a mutual understanding that can’t be explained. While the others are out causing trouble, you and him are on the sidelines watching hand in hand or your reading and he's just staring at you as you do so.

Paul and Marko kind of give you whiplash. They’re loud and rowdy and definitely 100% opposite from you. But they interested you. They had a very chaotic outlook on life which made you ask many questions.

Paul found your look sexy. He’s horny and you give off preppy school vibes, he’s living for it 24/7. Constant teasing of you giving him ‘private lessons’ which results with you whacking a book against the back of his head. But it doesn’t stop the reddening of your ears which doesn’t make him stop.

This man is also your designated jewelry expert. You only wear some accessories and they're very simple. So you are very surprised when Paul finds you jewelry that is your style and collects it for you. You like leather watches, guess what, he’s got it for you. You want some fancy victorian looking brooches, he’s got that too. Simple rings with a single jewel in the middle, expect constant ‘will you marry me’ jokes, but he gets you the best.

Also, he’s not overly big into your music selection. He does try to get you into his type of music, which you only like very few and far between. But when you do get him to listen to your type of music, it’s only if you agree to listen to his music the next night. You guys come up with a system and decide to switch every few nights.

Each of the boys have their favorite look on you and Paul's is when you wear a button-up of any color with a simple black tie, a pencil skirt and a pair of Dr.Marten boots. He especially likes the tie… for reasons. God damn it, you know the reasons, get out of here.

He’s a very affectionate boy and he finds your looks over confusion some of the cutest shit he’s ever seen. Probably the first one to tell you that he loves you and you honestly like glitched out. Did you feel the same way? Yes, but poor little thing you doesn’t say it right away, but Paul knows that you aren’t really used to saying things like that without warming up to it. Which is okay. He knows even if you don’t say it.

He definitely steals one of your blazers to put pins on it. Marko helps, putting a few patches on it that they both know you would like. It’s the one item that stands out in all of your clothing and you will wear it if they ask you to.

Marko definitely thinks the look is cute and it suits you very well, but why no color?! You wear dark colors but nothing bright like the colors that are on his jacket. He tries to slip in some colorful clothing into your everyday look, it never goes as planned but you give him an A for effort.

He loves how dark you can be at times though. You want to go to a local graveyard just because? Sure! Let’s go! He’s your designated graveyard buddy. You have many date nights there, looking at all the different gravestones and finding it interesting when you jot down some names in one of your notebooks.

Speaking of notebooks, you have many of them. They were filled with notes from books you’ve read, real life observations or even just some random poetry and short stories that you wrote. Marko would go through them a lot and even sometimes draw little doodles or rough sketches that were thought up from your writings.

When you spend nights down at the Boardwalk, your go to drink isn’t a slushie or a milkshake or even a soda. It’s coffee or tea. Yeah, and only Marko knows your drink orders by heart. None of the others seem to remember them correctly which you thank them for trying but Marko has got them all beat.

Marko likes seeing you in sweaters and in your trousers or linen shorts with chelsea boots. If anything, when the two of you are alone, just wearing a knit sweater and shorts were perfect for him. He likes how cozy and warm you look. He’s very happy when he cuddles you and you are warm.

Now when they tell you that they’re vampires, you think that they’re joking. Vampires aren’t real, they’re a work of fiction. Yes there was a real man named Dracula, but there was no way that they were actual vampires.

Then they showed you hard proof and then there was no denying it at that point. Instead of running away, you were fascinated. You wanted to understand your boyfriends vampire ways that lead to you conducting extensive research and a notebook dedicated to them.

They showed you everything about them, how they feed, to which you didn’t bat an eyelash of watching them feed one night. You were one morbid chick but they saw that as a plus that you didn’t react. You had graveyard dates for crying out loud, nothing really surprised them at that point.

Flying came next and they had a lot of fun showing you just how high they could go with you in their arms. You never screamed at the height, you were too caught up in seeing the overhead view of the town. You could get used to seeing a view like that every night.

Then came the other things; how they slept before you came along, what actually hurt them and what didn’t. There was one time that you stared at their vampire faces for hours because you were taking notes on how their facial features changed.

Soon you had to stock up on more turtlenecks because of the many bite marks they would leave behind from feeding on you if the weather was bad one night. It wasn’t tough adapting to their occasional feeding. A lot of your clothing already covered up your skin so it was easy to hide from people on your nights out.

Not too long after, they popped the question. Would you want to be a vampire? Live forever, never grow up? Be with them for all eternity? You didn’t really need to think about it for too long, you knew what your answer was and so did they even if you didn’t say it out loud. You loved your boys and not much would change.

When you did change, it was entertaining for them to watch. You soon started taking down notes about your progress, comparing and contrasting your experience to their own.

To the eyes of many, you became even more dark and mysterious. You had an aura around you that drew people in, it’s what got you your four vampire boyfriends, only now, it brought in your meal for the night.

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nightswithkookmin · 4 years ago

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Hi Goldy, JK was bold in the past, around 2017-2019 (to me, gcf & rosebowl can be considered as ‘coming out’). But it seems he now prefers to stay closeted? E.g. he snatched JM’s hand in the Xylitol x BTS shoot, then looked at the camera. Holding hands is normal among members… a lot of his interactions with Jin, V and other members are more intimate than holding hands… his reaction makes me feel like he wants me to pretend I didn’t know…?

Sorry I've been a bit AWOL lately...

I'm busy being the man of my woman's dreams in a cis het anti black capitalist world

Fun times.

I saw that bit, uWu-ed and kept it pushing.

It's nothing new really. I think a few months back when I was out here screaming Jikook are toning down, acting super professional around the cameras yadda yadda people out here were looking at me like I'd lost my two delulu heads- but this segues into that theme for me and since I've exhausted the topic I don't know what else to add.

I've said before they've both been very conscious of the cameras within certain periods post October- again nothing new, they be like that every now and then every season every phase and the whys will always be up for debate in these ship streets- on that subject, I've read a lot of opinions yet I think like mine better and will stick to it. Thanks Kimberly of Delulu precinct. Walk along now. Lol.

Jimin was like that during the Coway behind the scene shoot too when he noticed the cameras and quickly elbowed Jk to draw him away from the gaze of the cameras.

I don't think it's because they stopped being 'bold' or want to pretend. It takes a lot of courage to even pretend or even perform the gay in front of the world and your peers. I think they are just awfully aware and conscious of the people they work with as well as corporation's growing awareness, intentions and interests in them. You just never know which saessang is moonlighting as a brand PA or marketing director for a company they are working with. You just never know who is watching especially whenever they have to work with these 'outsiders.'

Think of Dispatch. Were they not allies or business partners, they'd be careful around them too if they worked with them. Know what I mean?

Toning down and exercising caution is necessary sometimes. I don't know why some people think that's absurd or Tuktukkerish when I say stuff like that. Especially with the kind of reputation they have as a ship and just how commercially attractive that image is. It's common sense at this point if you ask me.

Jikook sells. Argue with the analytics. I don't know who thinks they don't. Must be the clowns and penguins. They sell period. BigHit knows this, BTS knows this, companies know this. We don't scream Jikook is a brand within a brand for no reason.

And a lot of the toning down in recent times has perhaps inadvertently mitigated that growing power and demand of them as a marketing resource- who knows, that could have as well been by design, intentionally instigated for obvious reasons which I argue is the case but don't mind me. I'm delusional, gay and apparently the man of my woman's dreams uWu. Gotta wear that pants in my relationship. Ayaya Hwaiting.

When you say he prefers to stay closested- I thought they are both closested already?? They both have never been fully out in our opinion. Yes our opinion because I feel we are like minded. Let's be delulu mates.

On the topic of closets, I want to save that for a separate post. What I can say though is they are both growing and maturing and learning and unlearning. Jungkook's desire to 'come out' or act reckless with his glass closet in my opinion stemmed from him placing more value on his personal happiness over other values perhaps because he was young and hadn't fully grasped the full and complex nature of happiness or understand the privilege he has as part of BTS.

We make decisions based on our values most times. It's how I make sense of their actions really. I'm more likely to assume things that are consistent with the values they each have expressed openly and tend to reject any theory that contradicts or is inconsistent with those values. A guy who values his career is less likely to act in a way that puts that career at risk. And I'm well aware their values evolve over time.

These days he has never quit as one of his mottos next to rather dead than cool- do you see the contradictions in those values? Rather dead means quitting life. Yet now he says never quit. Don't mind me. I'm in a grumpy mood.

But what I'm saying is, the desire to want to show the world who this person means to him is not fixed or a priority all the time. Now i think he values his career a lot more than before which means he is more likely to compromise and less likely to do things that may put that career in jeopardy.

Transferring that to his relationship, I don't expect him to be breaching the glass closet anytime soon. And if he do, it might be incidental and may carry with it consequences which I believe he is well aware and concious of now. Will that change? You bet. Again it depends a lot on what his values in a given moment are and which ones he prioritizes.

It's their relationship. They chose which aspects of it they want to share with the cameras. Some of it get written off as fanservice. Fair enough. But the nonfanservice passing moments has always been questionable- although I must say, I find all Jikook moments and interactions questionable lol.

It's just skinship. Holding hands I mean. Why would he be conscious of that right? II'vetalked about consequences and repercussions of their actions. Sometimes I think it's the off screen scolding that gets to him. The ones silently whispered at his back. I mean we saw his reaction when Jimin was getting scolded by the hyungs for sleeping late. He's talked about skipping sleep too if I recall correctly. Jimin is hyung and I know the hyungs expect him to know better and do better. I'd Imagine Jimin would equally scold JK if his actions reflected poorly on him too.

So why the hell would he not say anything to Jungkook for posting on his birthday when he hadn't posted at all for any hyung's??? Sigh.

It's sad his guards are back up- but it's for good reason I believe given the context of the situation.

I don't think dramatizing his dynamic with Jimin makes him bold. Nor does Jimin's propensity to over express himself with Jungkook mean he loves Jungkook more than. Both are extreme takes for me.

Nevertheless, I contrast that moment with a Tae Kook moment which is one of my favorite tuktukk moments. In this moment, JK is staring at Jimin, his whole body turned towards him. Tae notices the cameras and draws JK's attention to it. I think there are two such moments like that from the recent contents? I don't know I have to cross check.

Tae in that moment reminded me a lot of Jimin. Jimin does this too- play out their relationship infront of the cameras to the point one might say he likes to show off their bond- which is such a BTS thing to do too so no big deal. I mean they like to show off their bond and chemistry as Tae said a while back.

It's one thing for JK to hesitate to act with a member because of the cameras, it's another for him to act self conscious only after the fact.

And JK has always been him like this with Jimin as Jimin used to say- JK acts different with me off cameras than he is on camera. He had a history of suppressing himself around Jimin owing in part to his personality

He's talked about putting on a mask around people and in a recent interview Jimin have talked about pretending and acting one way when he's not- I mean I've ever talked about the boy being in love with the Maknae being a facade- one of many.

They have public personas which, from what BTS themselves say, looks slightly different or similar to what we see on screens- or that they've grown to be more like what we see on screens.

I guess what I'm getting at is that 'pretending' isn't exactly a new thing or out of the ordinary. Personally I'd say he's being conscious of his surroundings like Jimin was and not that he is 'pretending.' If you know what I mean.

If he's pretending he has good reason to I believe and we can only speculate on that- we can't know for sure why.

If Jikook is fanservice then there's no need for either of them to worry about the cameras picking up on their interactions or who's watching them.

What goes on in Tae's head? I wanna know.

I don't know where to direct this post because you didn't really ask a question.

I'm fine thanks for asking. I'm really fine. I'm thinking of joining Jimin in the gym at 3am to bench press and build some biceps to match my role in my relationship😒

And no I don't need any advice. Keep it.

This is going to be my attitude until we switch back😐

I'm gonna be a boyfriend from hell and a blogger from satan's ass.

Also I think I overshare💀

GOLDY

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daydreamsofh · 5 years ago

Text

Terrible Love- Part One

A/N: Ahhhhh, hi! Hello! Welcome to Terrible Love, part one. I am so excited to share this with you! This one is another friends to lovers, because I literally do not know how to write anything else! Kidding. No, really. :)

And I have to give a very special thank you to my girl @harryinsweatersandbandanas for her constant encouragement and support. Ash, thank you for being such a light in my life and for always reassuring me. And another special thank you to @dallas-suit-harry for beta reading for me, Em, thank you for always being so wonderful and funny and I can’t wait to tackle you with hugs sometime soon <3

Here we go! As always, reblogs and feedback are more than welcome, my ask box is always open :)

Summary: Love, or should I say falling for your best friend has a way of being terrible, and wonderful all at the same time.

Inspired by this song: Terrible Love- Birdy

Word Count: 5k

He’d be gone soon, and there was quite literally nothing that you could do about it. You started to do your normal routine when he was getting ready to leave. Step 1: ( and really it was the only step) avoid him, avoid him, AVOID HIM. It made no sense, and it was incredibly childish on your part but it was a lot easier than having to face him, knowing his familiar and (annoyingly handsome) face would be gone from you far too soon. And for far too long. You started staying later at work to avoid having your weekly dinners with him, and you even went in on the weekends just to have an excuse as to why you couldn’t see him. Your favorite co workers had even caught on at this point, knowing not to even begin to ask why you suddenly looked so sad, and so defeated, literally all the time. It was gross and overly dramatic the lengths you were taking to avoid seeing him, and at the end of the day, it didn’t make you feel any better. At all.

But your poorly thought out plan of avoidance came to an abrupt halt the night before he was leaving. He had called and practically begged you to come over, saying he had a present for you and something about wanting to tell you goodbye. You couldn’t exactly tell what he said because you were too busy racking your brain to think of a way to get out of going. But when he called you by your full name, (which only happens when either of you are angry with each other, and or to get one’s attention right off the bat) you reluctantly decided to go.

You had sullenly agreed to meet him at his place, it was easier to just agree to meet him than to keep trying to avoid him. He was inevitable, just like the waves of emotion you feel when he leaves, heart breaking, and inevitable. When you had finally managed to drag your feet out of your car to his front door, he opened it before you even rang the bell. He swung the door open, and as soon as you saw his face, your stomach fell and you had to swallow the lump in your throat. His eyes lit up and the corners of his mouth followed while his eyes focused on your makeup free, tired face.

“Ah, so you do remember who I am!” he said it with a soft smile, realizing now that he got a chance to look at you that it must have taken a lot for you to come over. Clingy wasn’t the right way to describe you as a friend, let alone a best friend, but he was no stranger to the fact that him leaving for months at a time had an effect on you, as well as on him. He was quite sure you’d never be able to fully understand the effect you had on him, or on his life. How whenever he made a stupid joke, he’d look over to see if you thought it was funny too, or how he would sit in the exact spot as you whenever you left his house for the night, scooting down the seat far enough that your familiar smell surrounded him and he would let out the softest sigh. How sometimes he would even fall asleep in that position, just wanting to be reminded of you for as long as he could, even though you physically weren’t there. How it was a tradition for the two of you to exchange gifts before he left for tour, or more how it was a tradition that he would get you something in exchange for him getting to see you one last time, no matter how weepy and tired you were.

You smiled as best you could for him, trying to hide the fact that you just wanted to cry seeing him standing there. You walked through his door without a word, and walked straight into his chest. He chuckled and wrapped his arms around you and kissed the top of your head several times. When he finally let you go, you turned and climbed on his kitchen counter to take a seat and he moved to stand in front of you. You could feel him staring a whole through you but your gaze was solely focused on the floor beneath you.

He cleared his throat to break the silence before saying, “Thought we said you weren’t going to hide from me anymore for weeks at a time, before I leave for tour, hmm?” It wasn’t an angry question, he was stern but his tone was a gentle coo, and he was doing his slow blinking bit that makes your heart melt and beat faster all at the same time. When you finally looked up from the floor you shrugged your shoulders and started staring at the crown molding on his ceiling before making eye contact with him.

“I’ve been busy with work H, really, really, realllllly busy,” you finished it with an innocent quirk of your eyes and a genuine smile to really try and sell the line.

Harry ran his fingers through the top of his hair and nodded slowly, “Ah yeah right super busy with work, and avoiding your best friend pretending like he isn’t about to be gone for a few months,” his smirked at you when he saw your shoulders deflate and your eyes roll.

You whimpered and dropped your head, “Don’t remind me please,” he caught your legs that were swinging back and forth under his countertop and spread his thumb over the top of your knee to get you to look at him.

When it was clear he wasn’t going to speak first, you huffed before scooting back an inch on the counter.

“I know you like to be gone and I know that you love touring,” you started, looking directly at him despite the tears forming. “I just hate that you have to physically leave to do it,” you squeaked out. A tear rolled down your cheek despite your best efforts and he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. His lips curled up into a small smile and then he was full on grinning at you. When he started chuckling you rolled your eyes and moved to kick him but he caught your calve, rubbing small circles into your skin. You narrowed your eyes at him and you couldn’t help but laugh even though you just wanted to kick him.

“You know what, screw you, I’m glad you think this is so funny,” you huffed while rolling your eyes.

Harry caught his breath and shook his head, “No no no, s’not funny love, I’m sorry. S’just so cute when yeh get like this right before I leave,”

When you thought about it, you were always like this about him, regardless of his traveling schedule. You could always seemingly just cry from watching him from across the room, he had such a way of drawing people in, and you were powerless to that. It pained you to hear him call you cute, what were you his sister? The deepest part of your mind knew exactly how you felt about Harry, but you had yet to admit it to yourself, out loud anyway. Partly because you knew he would never feel the same way, and partly (mostly) because if you were to admit it to yourself how badly you wanted him, the admission would be too heavy to handle. Your chest ached at the thought of him leaving, but your chest ached more at the fact that you seemingly would never have the courage to tell him how you felt. He had had relationships over the years, and you had watched him fall in and out of love over and over again, always there to pick up the pieces. You however, had had few and far boyfriends and relationships in between. It was hard to commit to anything seriously when you were without knowing, (and partly actually knowing) that you were comparing them all to Harry. It wasn’t logical, and was a sort of self sabotage but how can you not compare everyone to him, when he’s just so….. Him?

“How about while I’m gone, you house sit fo’ me? Don’t have to stay the whole time, but maybe just for the first few weeks? Y’know, it might ease the sting of me leaving for a little while?”

When he smiled after his question you rolled your eyes, pushing his shoulders back as he tried to get closer to you.

“You know actually now that I think about it I can’t wait for you to leave, so I can sell all of your stuff on ebay you wanker,”

His mouth dropped and opened very over dramatically, and he snaked his arms around your waist to bring you closer to him. Face pressed against your neck you felt the smallest, shyest bit of pressure from his lips, and before you could process it he said, “Make sure you don’t sell those white loafers of mine love, know they’re your favorite,”

That had you giggling and Harry smiling soft at you. When he lifted his face out of your neck your shared laughter had died down and you sat there just gazing at each other. His gaze flickered over your face and the butterflies you seemingly always felt when you were with him were swooping gently in your stomach and you felt warmer and warmer the longer he looked at you.

When your lip quivered again despite your best efforts you didn’t hesitate when he pulled you into him again. You wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders and he started humming softly in your ear. His hands were rubbing soft circles against your lower back and you felt yourself slowly melting into him. The rest of your night consisted of watching a movie on his couch and you sitting in his lap while he cuddled you from behind, your legs getting tangled eventually until you fell asleep halfway on top of him. When you woke up the next morning you watched as he gathered his last things to get ready to leave while you sipped coffee from your designated mug from his collection.

You walked him out of his front door to the car waiting to take him to the airport and once you came to a stop in his driveway he leaned down to peck your cheek, you held his face to your cheek for a moment and you could feel him breathing you in. He moved his forehead to rest against yours and he murmured a soft, “Miss you already. Text you when I land, okay?”

You could only nod your head as he kissed your forehead once more, completely overwhelmed with his face so close to yours. And just like that he was gone, and the air felt cold as soon as he stepped away and you shivered. The breath was knocked out of you as you made your way back into his house and you couldn’t help but drag your feet as you made your way back in.

You had ultimately taken him up on his house sitting question, and even though you knew he was joking it actually did help the sting of him leaving. At least a little bit. It was comforting to be surrounded by his things and to be in his environment, but you still found yourself moping around his ridiculously larger than life house. It was hard for you to stay focused on anything for more than a few minutes before you were pilfering through his closets and drawers, smiling softly to yourself as you remembered items from his wardrobe that you had grown to love over the years. Running your hands along the stitches and seams of pieces that smelled of his cologne you found yourself getting teary eyed. You had cozied up in one of his shirts every night he had been gone and you were already planning to sneak some new additions home in your bag to add to your collection.

You had tried to sleep on the couch in his living room, the large leather cushions felt like they were swallowing you whole, and you could smell his cologne etched into the fabric from all of his time he spent sitting there. Whether that was when he was scribbling down lyrics, or laughing into your hair as you watched a show together. You found yourself getting frustrated at yourself for crying about his couch? Seriously? Could you be more embarrassing, weepy, and grossly emotional? Pushing yourself up off of his couch you made your way down the hall to his bedroom. The entirety of your stay you had avoided going into his bedroom, it was ridiculous and made little sense even to you, but you had known that if you were in the space he spent the majority of his time in, you would never want to leave. You rested against the door frame and took a deep breath and crossing the threshold. Flicking on the lamp on his bedside table you smiled at the instant warmth you felt by just being in his room, in the space that he felt the most at home, it almost felt like he was right there with you. You pulled back the duvet and crawled into bed, his familiar scent overtaking your lungs all over again. You clutched the blankets in your hands for dear life, almost convinced that if you held onto them for long enough he would magically appear and be here with you.

As much as you loved Harry, and you did, you truly did, you couldn’t help but think that it was a terrible sort of love. Thinking back to the song you and him would dramatically sing to one another to make each other laugh you realized how true the lyrics were for you, and how they had always perfectly described your relationship with him.

It’s a terrible love and I’m walking with spiders, it’s a terrible love and I’m walking in…

It’s quiet company, It’s quiet company, It’s quiet company…..

From how badly you seemingly always wanted him, to how you couldn’t sleep without listening to a voice note he had sent you when he finally landed, or how you had to read one of the books on his bedside table to tire yourself out. The knowledge that his eyes had raked over the same lines of words and held the same spine of the book was enough to make your fingertips tingle and your chest ache.

And I, can’t fall asleep, without a little help

It takes a while to settle down, my shivered bones, wait till the panic’s out…..

At some point though, you must have fallen asleep because the next thing you knew daylight was breaking through his curtains and your eyes were stinging and swollen from the tears you had cried the night before.

You had been checking in with Harry every few days while he had been gone, most of the time it was a simple, “Miss you, thinking of you x” message from him, followed by a “Miss you, love you.” response from you. Your co-workers had noticed a small change in your mood, not exponentially, but a slight difference in your overall state. You weren’t bouncing off the walls excited but you also didn’t look like you were going to break down into tears every five seconds, either. One day your favorite co worker Lucy, who you had initially bonded with over your shared love of trashy bravo reality TV shows, had a “fail proof” way to cheer you up even more.

“Alright, I know you’re too busy missing that bloke to even know what day it is, but I think I have something, or someone that can take your mind off of him, completely?” she all but squeaked out, obviously very excited and very proud of herself for coming up with such a revolutionary idea, if her eyebrows stamped on top of her forehead in question weren’t telling enough.

You had rolled your eyes halfway through her talking and quirked an annoyed eyebrow up at her in question.

“Oh yeah? Tell me Luce, what would this “fail proof” idea of yours be anyway?”

“Well I am so glad you asked! Remember that guy I was telling you about a while back? The friend of a friend who actually seems like a super sweet, sugary stick of a guy! Connor? Ringing any bells?”

You couldn’t help the scowl that settled across your face, the name just sounded so bland, ordinary, and not what you were looking for.... Like, remotely. When you really thought about it, what you were looking for was a loud, sometimes obnoxious knobhead of a man who tripped over his own feet and wears vaguely inappropriate graphic tees and someone who has an absurd love for pea’s and calls him Mum each chance he gets and someone who has kind eyes and who acts like he’s never met a stranger. Oh how nice that would be.

Lucy took your silence and facial expression as not only a no, but a hell no. But when you looked at her crestfallen face, you couldn’t help but feel a little bit bad, you hadn’t meant to hurt her feelings or her attempts at being a matchmaker. Maybe she was right? Maybe this was a good idea? Maybe he was harmless and she genuinely thought the two of you might have something in common..? Plus, what’s one night? You could get someone to buy you dinner and at the end of the night you were still going home to Harry. Crap- Harry’s house- you mean.

“You know what Luce, that would be fine! Sounds fun actually!” you were lying through your teeth but you smiled anyway to try and really sell it.

“Eeeek! Yay! Oh you two are going to have the best time, I just know it! Let me call him for you, babe!” she reached over to give you a squeeze, and you hugged her back all the same despite the uneasiness you were already feeling.

The date had been…. Fine. Nice, even. That’s really all you could say to describe it, to describe him. He was nice and charming, and smiled at you every chance he got, but something just wasn’t right. There was nothing wrong with him necessarily, either, he just wasn’t what you were hoping for. He had paid for your dinner and asked you question after question about yourself trying to get to know you, he had opened the door to the restaurant for you and the car door when he drove you home. To be honest, he was a complete and utter gentleman the whole evening, but something about him just screamed vanilla to you. He had leaned in for a kiss on your cheek when you opened your door to leave, and in response you squeezed his hand and thanked him before muttering a “thank you, see you”.

When you had made your way back inside of the house you pulled your phone from your bag to see a missed facetime call and three texts from Harry. You couldn’t help your squeal when you saw his name and you immediately swiped your thumb over the notification and checked yourself in the reflection of your phone. The longer your phone rang the more nervous you got, you hadn’t seen him despite a few pictures of him on stage and one he sent to you the first night of the leg of the tour.

When his face appeared on the screen you felt your eyelashes hit your eyebrows from smiling so hard and the biggest grin took over your entire face. You clapped your free hand over your forehead and giggled when you saw his tired eyes find yours on the screen.

“There she is! Hi love,”

You let out a small laugh, “Hi H,”

His dimples were showing and you saw his eyes searching the background of his kitchen you were sitting in.

“Ah, so I see you haven’t gone and sold all of my belongings after all, huh love?”

“Yeah yeah well for now anyways,” you rolled your eyes and were giggling softly and he was smiling softly, smittenly at you.

When you got up from your place at the island to take off your coat Harry asked you, “Did you just get in? S’little late isn’t?”

Your eyes flicked back on the screen immediately and you could have sworn you heard the slightest twinge of jealousy, maybe even annoyance in his tone. His brows were furrowed when you made eye contact with him and you raised yours at him in response. You finished taking off your coat and picked your phone up again, bringing it eye level to your face.

“Uh yeah, I actually had a sort-of date tonight. I walked in just a little bit ago actually,” you told him easily.

You saw his jaw clench and you shifted in your seat. Was he mad at you? He sounded pensive when he asked you the question and now his jaw was set in a fixed, hard line. You felt your cheeks fill up with heat and you couldn”t help but feel like you had done something wrong. Obviously you hadn’t, you were free to date and to see or not see whoever you wanted to, and so was Harry. You didn’t like the fact of him going out on dates, but that was besides the point.

You were studying his face and when he turned his head to the side to stretch his neck out and you couldn’t miss the red, splotchy marks on the side of his neck. Your eyes were stinging and you were glad you were sitting down for the duration of this dramatic turn of events phone call. Looks like someone had been having fun on the road with god knows who. Who the hell was he to question about your whereabouts when he was clearly preoccupied with other things? With other people? You suddenly felt sick to your stomach and you could feel your eyes start to brim with tears. You always imagined yourself being the one to press marks and kisses and love bites into the warm skin of his neck. The thought that someone else was doing that in your absence night after night on tour made you want to sink to the floor and sob.

He cleared his throat after the moment of silence and your barely wet eyes met his. He opened his mouth to speak but before he could get it out you cleared your throat and thought quickly of an excuse to get off of the phone before he could see you break down.

“You know H, I should probably go, I have an early meeting in the morning and I should get some sleep,” you sheepishly smiled at him before your gaze fell to the floor.

You could feel his gaze on you, hard even through the screen. He coughed to fill the silence and you could hear him shifting in his seat.

“Erm, yeah love sure. Get some rest. Talk to you soon?” he smiled weakly at you and you could only nod your head.

Your voice wavered and you squeaked out, “Love you,”

He repeated the words back to you and you looked at him one more time before hanging up.

Your head fell and you couldn’t help the tears that were rolling down your cheeks. The notion that you were never going to be with him in that way, came smacking you in the face, once again. This is part of the reason you never wanted to truly deal with your feelings about him, they were too big and too deafening. They made your hands shake and your fingertips itch with the need to touch him. They made your chest heave and your throat burn when you saw him looking at you from across the room. They knocked the wind out of you every time he left and they were stronger every time he came back. They were loud and never ending and warm and made you feel like you were home, they were made out of everything that makes him, him.

Rising up from your perch on his kitchen floor, you dragged yourself to bed. His bed. God, could you be any more pathetic and weepy? It was like you were trying to break a world record of how many tears you could cry over one Harry Styles. Why does even his name have to be so god damn charming? Could he not make it this easy to be so out of your mind, in love with him? It was like the universe was laughing at you and you just prayed that Harry didn’t have cameras hidden in his house somewhere and he was watching you throw yourself a massive, walleyed fit.

Pulling his duvet that smelled so much of him and now of you, you pulled the covers over your eyes and drifted off to sleep.

You had ended up spending the entire leg of the tour staying at his house. It was never your intention to stay the whole time, but the longer you were there the less you wanted to go back to your house. His house was warm and comforting and as sad as you were about his new flame he seemed to have, you couldn’t leave.

The two of you had talked a few times since that fateful facetime call, and he was set to come home the day after tomorrow. You had been dreading seeing him but the feeling in the pit of your stomach and the race of your heart at the mere vision of him walking through the door told you otherwise.

Work had been slow for you the next day, not like you would be able to actually get anything done if you tried, too antsy at the thought of him coming later than evening. When the day was done and over and there were no other possible reasons for you to stay in the office any longer, you started your way back to his house.

When you punched in the code at his front door to find it was already unlocked, your stomach dropped to the sidewalk beneath you and you panicked. The little wanker was home two hours early. Crap crap crap crap CRAP! You took a deep breath before pushing the door open, the warmth from his house meeting your cheeks and coloring them as soon as you walked through the door.

As soon as you shut the door you heard a gasp followed by your name and suddenly a six foot mop of curls were making their way down the stairs. He snuck up behind you and scared the absolute crap out of you and you let out a loud, shrill of a laugh when he spun you around.

When he finally sat you down you got a look at him properly, your heart turned to mush and you felt your knees go weak at being this close in proximity to him again.

“S’bout time you showed up doll, too busy with that new boyfriend of yours, eh?” he winked at you but you could tell there was a sort of twist at his stomach at his question.

You hadn’t mentioned to him that you hadn’t seen Connor since that night, or the fact that you didn’t really want to see him, ever again.

You let out an uncomfortable laugh and shook your head while running your fingers through the hair he messed up in his jostling of a greeting.

“Yeah uh, definitely not, H,” you laughed.

When he leaned his head back to laugh, you saw the marks again. They were bright red this time and it was impossible to miss them. You felt your knees start to go slack and you had the sudden urge to bolt.

“Well,” you started, rubbing your suddenly very clammy hands together. “I guess I’ll go gather my stuff up and get out of your hair, I’m sure you’re exhausted.” you smiled while you passed by him and when he couldn’t see you you closed your eyes at the smell of his cologne washing over you.

He was quick to turn around and follow after you, “Y’don’t have to go, could sit and talk fo’ a bit. Tell you all about the tour an’ all that,” he smiled his softest smile and you just wanted to fall into him.

“Actually uh now that I think about it, I forgot I have plans, so I’ll just see you at the party on Saturday, H.” you nervously huffed out, feeling very hot and nervous under his gaze all of a sudden.

“Oh,” he spoke up, “So you are coming to that?” he asked with the slightest tinge of pink to his cheeks.

“Of course I am, I’ll see you then, H.” you smiled and leaned in to kiss his cheek. But before you could back up Harry gripped your hips softly and held you to him for a moment.

“Really did miss you,” he all but whispered in your ear. His voice had a raspy, honey tone to it, and it made your eyes fall shut again.

You pulled back from your place against his neck and gazed back at him. His eyes were soft and he brushed a piece of hair behind your ear. He started to lean farther towards you and your eyes shot up from his mouth.

“I really missed you too, H.” you softly said to him. “I’ll see you soon.” you rubbed your thumbs in soft circles over his forearms and finally side stepped him to leave.

Bags in hand and your heart in your throat you made your way to your car to leave. When you looked back he was already looking at you. You smiled wordlessly and he winked back at you.

You had managed to keep yourself from crying until you were halfway down the street.

When you got to your familiar street, you put the car in park and pulled your phone out to text a number you hadn’t saved yet. Swallowing harshly you wiped underneath your eyes to get rid of the tears that had started to form, again.

Typing out you wrote, “Hey, had a wonderful time with you the other night, what are you up to Saturday?”

#eeeeeeek i hope you like it!!!!#terrible love #going to hide now hehehe #harry styles imagines #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles one shot #harry fluff #oh the yearning #part two should be up sometime this next week!!!!#EEEEEEEK

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