#absolutely LOVE this image of steven

[pokeficdaily]

[userchai]

Tell Me You Love Me

EX BOYFRIEND STEVE x READER

infidelity, slight choking, dirty talk, p in v sex, rough sex, don’t read if these make you uncomfortable! not proofread! no word-count on this one sorry! feedback and reblogs are always welcome and appreciated! thank you so much for reading! 💞 18+ only please or I’ll get you!

“Just can’t stay away from me can you honey?” The sound of your skin bouncing off Steve’s echos around his childhood bedroom. Your eyes roll back as your toes curl in the frilly thigh highs that drive him mad. “C-can’t help it st-steve fuck!” You whimper out, the image of your new boyfriend is stuck in your head. You know you should feel incredibly guilty for what you’re doing right now, but you just can’t.

All you can focus on is how Steve’s cock splits you in half, sending your mind floating higher than any drug could ever take you. “Bet your little boy toy doesn’t fuck you like this does he?” He spits out, leaning down over your back to wrap one of his hands around your throat, there’s not much pressure but it’s enough to get his message across. ‘Mine.’ You knew it, you were his no matter who called you theirs at the time.

“D-don’t talk about him.” You whisper, choking back a loud moan as Steve holds your head down against his pillow, drool runs from your lips sticking against your face. His laugh sends chills down your spine as he stops thrusting into you. “Awww, is the little slut feeling guilty?” He mockingly asks. He pulls you up by your neck, grabbing your jaw to turn you towards him.

His eyes burn into yours as he waits for an answer. You smile, biting your lip before leaning closer. “Absolutely not, fuck me harder.” His eyes grow darker before his hips move again, his pace harder and rougher than before. “Gonna bruise you up baby, make you ache for me. When I’m done with you, you’ll be laying in bed with that asshole and all you’ll think of is me.” He growls, letting go of your neck and pushing you back down.

“Tell me you love me.” Tears fall down your cheeks as you shake your head no, you knew all of this was a bad idea, but you’d never stopped loving him. “I- love you.” You whisper as he lifts your hips up higher, driving into you until your stomach starts to be sore. “I love you too baby, gonna show you just how much right now. Gonna leave you full of me. I’ll be running down your legs when you run home to your little boyfriend.”

Your knees shake as they threaten to buckle. Your body feels like it’s on fire as you push yourself back against him, the sound of your bodies meeting making your stomach tighten with sick pleasure. “That’s it honey, let go.” He whispers, the hair on his chest tickles your back as he drapes himself over you. The chain around his neck dragging against your skin deliciously.

��—

“Shut up will you!” You whisper shout, hitting Steve’s arm as you both stand outside your apartment. He smiles at you, leaning back against the wall across from your door. “Same time next week right?” You roll your eyes as he winks at you, slowly moving down the hall. “This was the last time Steven.” You bite out, uncomfortably shifting as your underwear sticks to you. “We both know, that’s not true babydoll, have fun with your man, be sure and send him my love.” You scoff and open your door, quickly walking in and locking it back. You were so screwed.

tags- @floredaqueen @bunnyhargrove @gri959 @loserboysandlithium @queenofthekings

[loveinstreams]

also crazy how the initial comments were like. “love you guys but I can’t continue to watch behind a paywall” “please don’t do this you will lose a lot of devoted fans who can’t afford” “this goes against your company image” to absolutely hateful borderline racist post about steven and how all their shows suck except ghost files and puppet history. some of y’all truly jumped on the occasion to let that out huh

[angeldreamsoffanfic]

part two of this original ficlet

-

It’s a couple days later when Robin Buckley is in Steve Harrington’s bedroom when it fully hits her. That this boy, not much older than she is- is her best friend. There’s a million universes out there, Robin is one of the ones who believes in that fully and completely. Every little change splitting off and dividing, creating and creating and creating.

Robin, however, can’t even begin to imagine the universes where she doesn’t know Steve. Doesn’t know him fully and completely and as absolutely wholeheartedly as she does. Can’t imagine that there are galaxies where she doesn’t know him as well if not better than herself sometimes.

But he’s hers here.

“Do you want to move in?” Steve’s question is soft spoken, and Robin is quick to turn to catch his eyes in her own. He’s leant up against his desk, a Rubik’s cube in between his fingers. His head is cocked slightly, eyebrows furrowed as his eyes and Robin’s meet. “Rob?”

“Yeah?” Robin allowed herself to grin, a shy and slow curve of her lips, even as she pushed her statistics homework off of her lap. Steve nodded once then twice, a sharp bob of his chin that was so firm it almost caused his chin to make contact with his chest. “You want me to move in with you, dingus?”

“Yeah,” Steve murmured, soft and sweet, before he tossed the Rubik’s cube toward Robin. She didn’t catch it, she never could really, but it did land in her lap- completely solved. Robin plucked it into her hands, set about messing it up again, so Steve could solve it. “I wanted to ask, since I know you’re eighteen now and-”

“And since my parents still think all of this was an earthquake?” Robin supplied knowingly, before she threw the Rubik’s cube back to Steve. He caught it from the air with his left hand and shyly nodded, before he set about solving the puzzle cube once more. Robin is quiet for a second, just before she continues on. “What about yours?”

“My parents?” Steve asked with a slight furrowed brow, his head cocked slightly to the side. Robin let out a soft hum, though nodded when she saw that Steve hadn’t heard her well. “They uh, aren’t coming back to Hawkins, Rob.”

Robin felt her heart lurch as she rubbed her palms along her jean clad thighs, brow instantly taut as she eyed Steve. He had diverted his eyes, eyes now focused on the way he moved the Rubik’s cube. She had never been good at those, really, and had doubted Steve’s ability in solving them when he first brought the thing into the back of Scoops A’hoy.

That was, of course, until she saw this.

The modes where Steve’s brain whirred by him too fast, his past of dealing with the Upside Down heavy on his shoulders. No matter the jokes the kids tended to make in Steve’s expense, he really wasn’t an idiot. Not when it came to puzzles, at the very fucking least.

Robin shook her head, wiggling further onto the carpet to be able to extend one of her legs. She hooks her ankle around Steve’s, smiling a little bit softer when he immediately eased into the touch. His shoulders stopped being tense and up by his ears, easing down to their natural resting point. Robin let’s it stay quiet for a beat, then two, before she starts to speak again.

“I love you.” Robin let herself murmur the words easily, even when Steve’s eyes are immediately glassy and soft. His brows furrow and she let her own furrow back, a mirror image to his. “Like this all-consuming aching love that I’ve never felt for anyone. Not like this.”

“Robbie-”

“No, let me get this out there.” Robin shook her head quickly as she scrambled forward, coming to kneel at Steve’s side. She cradled his cheeks in her hands, thumbs curled against his cheekbones as she tilted his chin up so his eyes would be met with her own. She knew what she must look like, like she’s on a warpath. (And in her mind, she is.) “I don’t think I have ever loved someone as much as I love you, dingus.”

“You are it for me, Steven Richard Harrington. You are my soulmate, and you-” Robin let herself sniffle, let Steve cradle her own cheeks in his palms. He mimicked the way she held him, hands gentle and thumbs cradling softly against her cheekbones. His thumbs brush even softer under her eyes, sweeping away tears Robin knew had managed to come out. “You deserve someone to tell you that every fucking day, and if it has to be me saying it to you for it to sink in… then so be it.”

“I love you, Robbie.” Steve’s own voice is wet and almost muffled sounding, brows still taut as his eyes shimmer with his own unshed tears. Robin makes sure to be gentle as she pressed her fingers harder into Steve’s face, squeezing his cheeks as she meets his eyes intently.

A beat passed. Then another. Robin let Steve stare unabashedly into her eyes, even when his own softened at whatever he had found inside of them.

“What?” Robin is almost scared to ask the question, even as Steve’s smile twitched at the very corner. Steve hummed softly, thumbs doing a final swoop up Robin’s cheeks, before he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Dingus?”

“You like Nancy.”

The statement is enough for Robin’s hands to fall off of Steve’s face, and she could feel the way her jaw slackened slightly. Steve is smug, almost, in the way he leaned further against the base of his desk as Robin scrambled backwards. He’s even quicker though, catching her ankle with his own- and causing her to land with a thud onto her butt that’s only minimally softened by his carpet.

“How did you-”

“You’ll find, that I’m one of the ones that knows what being in love with her is like.” Steve’s voice is soft, but there’s an edge on the back of it that caused Robin to swallow. Robin isn’t sure what fluttered hard in her stomach and chest, an ache of a feeling that caused her mouth to go dry and her brows to furrow. Steve licked at the corners of his mouth for a second, fingers flying faster as he turned and twisted at the Rubik’s cube. “And I just… let me say this, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Robin heard her voice croak, and she couldn’t help but feel as if she’s swimming in molasses as she watched Steve. His shoulders are up closer to his ears again, before he seemed to make the conscious decision to lower them. After a beat, the Rubik’s cube is solved, and Robin lets him toss it into her lap again.

“I don’t care that you like her at all, really.” Steve’s voice is soft and his words are spoken with a slow tilt to them, brows still furrowed as his bottom lip is pulled between his teeth. Robin watched him worry at it for a bit, before he let it go and began to speak again. “I was in love with her, I know, and she broke my heart in two-”

“Dingus-” Robin tried softly, but she let herself be cut off when Steve shook his head sharply. She instead, tossed the once more scrambled puzzle cube his way- and watched as he began to solve it again.

“If she…” Steve shook his head once, then twice, before his eyes met hers. There’s something there that’s lurking in them, a steel glimmer to them that Robin hasn’t seen before. He’s never really like this with her, not pulling on his King Steve persona like a personal shield again. “If she hurts you, Rob? Whatever friendship between her and I that’s somehow been salvaged? It’s… There is… I don’t care for a lot, not really anymore.”

Steve paused for a beat, shaking his head as he sniffled. He continued, speaking quieter and focused on his hands as he let the Rubik’s cube fall to his carpet.

“But if I ever have to chose between you and her? Rob, I’m going to pick you every time. And I want to be selfish and ask if you’d pick me too.”

Robin felt the tears then, hot and almost burning against her cheeks. Steve scrambled forward almost immediately, and Robin let out a gross even to her ears sounding sniffle as she let him cradle her to his chest. Robin reached up then, fingers searching and digging, pulling Steve closer to her. They entwine easily, and Robin can’t help but immediately think of Greek mythology.

There’s a story, one her mother used to tell her in place of fairytales. Of how the Greek philosopher, Plato, believed that humans used to have four arms and legs, and had two faces. Her mother always told it best, of how Zeus had deemed humans too prideful and split them as a form of punishment. Humans destined to walk the Earth searching for their other half, for their soulmate.

When she was little she used to think it would be romantic.

She knew better now.

She knew better because here she had Steve. And she may never get the chance or even the balls to tell Nancy Wheeler how she feels.

(That there are times where Robin looks at Nancy, and envisions a life where they are incandescently happy. Times where Robin can remember the burn and ache she felt for both Tammy and for Vickie, but that even together they don’t amount to what she feels for Nancy. That there are times where all Robin can do is just fucking wish and—)

She may never have a romantic soulmate.

Maybe it’s not in the cards for her in this reality, maybe that’s only something she can have in a different universe. Strangely, a part of her is okay with that.

Because here she has Steve. Here Steve has her.

And they’re SteveandRobin and RobinandSteve.

Two halves of a whole split by a God in a fit of rage, but somehow against all the odds they have managed to find each other and conjoin again.

Robin kept her voice soft as she pressed a soft kiss to Steve’s chest, and she left her lips there as she mumbled her next words. They’re the only words that fit, even though she wished she could bare her soul and mind completely, let him read and take his fill. Let him be comforted by her love.

As complete and unconditional as it is.

“I’d chose you in every fucking lifetime, Steve.”

It’s quiet for a moment, and Robin squeezed her fingers more intently against Steve’s shoulders. Steve is quick to mimic her, giving Robin a few quick pulses of his fingers, before he spoke up after a beat.

“I think I have a crush on Eddie.”

Robin can’t help but explode into laughter.

Steve followed with his own shortly after.

—

hope you enjoyed! here’s the link for this fic if following along with it on ao3 is more your jam <3 more parts to come soon!

taglist:

@wonderland-girl143-blog @bxlthazar @estrellami-1 @plutoshelm @stevesbipanic @mackdaddyofheimlichcountyy @plyerice27 @justforthedead89 @nuttychaosface @princess-eddie @daydreaming-mood @anaibis @marsbars97 @messrs-weasley @beckkthewreck @he-she-steveharrington @practicallybegging @trashcanniballecter @theluckyalien @chaoticvictorianspirit @fantasyfr3ak @newtstabber @mightbeasleep @idontgetpaidenoughforthisshit @songbird-garden @thisisallicouldthinkof @emma-elsa-0000 @leather-and-freckles @shinekocreator @alex-whitley-187 @gay-little-bitch @pluto-pepsi @silentiumdelirium @kitchen-spoon @bossyknow-it-all

[spop-romanticizes-abuse]

connie vs catra: falling in love with a hero

so one thing in SPOP that reminded me of SU is when Catra gets upset and angry at Adora for needing to sacrifice herself in order to save the world. something very similar to this happens in SU where Connie gets upset at Steven for turning himself in to the Diamonds, so that he can prevent everyone else from getting hurt.

and i wanted to compare these two scenarios and talk about why this kind of conflict worked with connverse, but not c//a.

1. Past Relationship And Hypocrisy

Connie and Steven had a healthy relationship prior to this incident. Connie was always supportive of Steven and quite honestly, was one of the very few people who had no expectations for him based on his mother.

the Crystal Gems constantly talked about Rose and knowingly or unknowingly put pressure on Steven to live up to her image. Greg often mentioned Rose too, and while he may not have intended to make Steven feel pressured, that was the outcome.

Connie, on the other hand, saw Steven for who he was - a 14 year old kid who had way too many expectations to live up to. she served as Steven's rock and his connection to human life, letting him goof off and relax like he should. she listened to him when he was feeling troubled, and assured him that she would always be there to support him. Connie made Steven feel loved and understood.

they also made a promise to always fight together after Pearl tries to pressure Connie into sacrificing herself for Steven. Steven is clearly uncomfortable with this and doesn't want Connie to act like his bodyguard and put herself in danger.

so it makes complete sense that Connie felt hurt and betrayed when Steven decided to do exactly that and sacrifice himself to save her and the rest of beach city. it makes sense that Connie was worried sick about Steven after he surrendered himself.

Connie feeling upset about this situation makes sense because she actually cares about Steven. she always has.

meanwhile Catra constantly used Adora's fears and insecurities against her, even when they were on the same side and especially when they were enemies. Catra made Adora feel worthless for existing, she made Adora feel like a failure.

Catra actively and knowingly contributed to Adora's self-sacrificial complex and her habit of putting everyone else's safety above her own. and then she's surprised that Adora wants to sacrifice herself to save the world. wow. who would have thunk it?

Catra has absolutely no right to act like she cares about Adora after all this. and she certainly has no right to get mad at Adora for doing something Catra herself conditioned her to do.

it makes no sense especially because the show acts like the previous seasons never happened. neither Catra nor Adora nor anyone else brings up the fact that Catra was one of the main contributors to Adora's hero complex and her insecurities. the show just glosses over that and acts like Catra being upset about all this is tragic and sympathetic.

2. Expressing Anger In A Healthy Manner

Connie is upset but she communicates her feelings to Steven in a calm manner. she tells him that what he did hurt her feelings. she is obviously angry and upset, but she's also visibly trying to keep it together and not let her anger get the best of her.

i also think that Steven kinda messed up when he replies to Connie's "i'm hurt" with "no you're not". he decided that as long as no one was physically hurt, there was no problem. he didn't stop to think about how this might have affected Connie emotionally. (i'm not hating on Steven btw, he was in a pretty tough situation himself and was just happy that everyone was safe and alive. this is a situation where both of them were in the right and it was just a complicated issue to navigate.)

basically, Connie deals with this situation more maturely than some adults might have. she felt hurt and betrayed, but she didn't use that as an excuse to hurt Steven. she said what she wanted to say and then she left to give her mind some clarity.

also she does this AFTER Steven returns home safely.

Catra, on the other hand?

she screams at Adora, accuses Adora of picking favorites and pushes her to the ground. Catra is supposedly in her 20s at this point, and she still hasn't learned to express her anger in a healthy manner. she says once that she was working on her anger issues and that's it. we never see her try, we never see any improvement.

and then Catra just abandons Adora because “she couldn't bear to watch Adora sacrifice herself”. Catra didn't just leave because she needed some time to cool off, she was basically willing to abandon Adora and let her die.

3. Clear Motives

Connie's feelings and motives are clear from the get-go. she was worried about Steven putting himself in danger, and she was angry and upset that he broke their promise and her trust.

Catra though?

first she's mad that Shadow Weaver called her a distraction. then she's concerned about Adora's choice to sacrifice herself. and finally, she's upset that Adora doesn't like her in a romantic way.

two of these were very self-centered motives. it's hard to believe that Catra was just concerned about Adora's safety when she's whining about how Adora chose Shadow Weaver over her, as if this was some kind of competition. and it just comes off as the writers shoving in as many reasons as possible for the viewers to sympathize with Catra, rather than writing an organic conflict.

in conclusion, if you want to write a relationship involving a self-sacrificial hero, do it like Steven Universe did. make it make sense instead of shoving in hypocritical conflict.

[magentadiamondau]

Wait.. how did Steven die? It was mentioned that Steven died and then got revived in this AU, so.. what killed him in the first place?

He died of Broken Heart Syndrome.

5th image was originally going to be the front cover but I decided against it due to it being too much of a "shock value" cover.

The last image shows the whole heart scar on his chest, symbolizing the way he died.

The reference sheet of Magenta above the last image is a "new revamped" version. But I am torn between this new design and the old one. (now I'm debating on if it should be one of "many" progression forms leading to the "older" design of Magenta.)

Let me know in the replies or reblogs what you think!

I hope you all like my sketches and WIPs by the way. I'm normally not one to show or post them to my blogs, but I'm trying to ease out of my comfort zone and show you guys more of what goes on behind the scenes.

I know people in the Eldritch Gems server absolutely love it when I do "show and tell" of my WIPs.

[sugarpasteltmnt]

You write unhinged Leo so well, and I really like how you write him. I was wondering if you had tips on unhinged characters 😂, or do you just get inspro from existing characters 👀

aksdakjsdh thank you so much ;w;

And honestly???? I’m not totally sure how to give tips— but I love, love, love unhinged characters in media, so I’ll use them as examples

(long rant below lol)

I’ve always been a big fan of silly, ‘crazy’ characters in animated movies and cartoons. I grew up on Batman the Animated Series and the original Teen Titans, which were full of silly, fun tragic characters.

Don’t get me wrong, i love a good edge-lord— but as a tot i thought the colorful, theatrical, insane bad guys were more fun to watch than the big scary serious ones (ESPECIALLY if they had a good villain song. A+ good shit)

(From left to right: Ratigan from Great Mouse Detective, Joker from Batman the Animated Series, Mumbo Jumbo from Teen Titans, Martin from Secret of Nimh 2, Bill Cypher from Gravity Falls, and Spinel from the Steven Universe movie)

And not just bad guys!! There are a ton of unhinged good/neutral characters that i absolutely adore.

(From left to right: King Bumi from ATLA, Clara from Welcome to Demon School Iruma-kun, and, of course, our silly 2018 turtle boys)

((There are many more characters in both categories, but I’ll slide these examples in here for now))

My personal brand of “Unhinged” or “Crazy” characters definitely leans on comedy. That’s what i enjoy seeing and reading! I personally like it because it can help keep a story fresh and interesting. There’s an element of surprise and unpredictability with what a character might do, and i love that!!

I also really enjoy a touch of feral behavior in my unhinged characters. The lack of clarity and the danger that imposes can be a very fun tool to use, no matter the character’s moral compass. (I’m feral for feral behavior lol)

And impulses. Whether a character has a few screws loose or is generally a goober, they like to act on impulses. This often goes hand-in-hand with comedy, and that’s something I enjoy!! We get a lot of moments like that in Rise, and that was one of my favorite parts of that TMNT iteration.

But as far as writing goes, it’s been tricky for me. All of the characters I grew up or love have been visual— trying to find a good balance for reading has been a puzzle I’ve been figuring out as I go.

I read a lot manga (lol nerd) and comics, and I love how thoughts/dialog are depicted. Especially the really dramatic or impactful moments. (I’d add examples but I’m already at the Tumblr image limit LAME)

As strange as it sounds, I try to capture that “impactful visual” style in my writing. If I had ANY advice on writing unhinged characters, pay attention to pacing—

Short. Fast. A calculating thought. Perhaps a run on sentence that lacks punctuation to represent the rushing and disorganized thought process. A question? An answer with little thought. Is this moment amusing; describe how. Is it upsetting; describe how. Are the thoughts starting to scatter? M aybe s o…

Big moment statement.

Action or plan of next big move. Flow should never seem too uniform. Even in normal writing. Don’t be afraid of accentuating— but don’t overdo it. Remember, unhinged characters are impulsive. Have fun with that.

Just as a quick and dirty summary— when it comes to unhinged characters, I like to use comedy, feral behavior, and acting on impulses. I also like to keep it as visually appealing as possible for characters to give the eyes a little treat after reading walls of text. I like to use fun text formatting to help with the fun too (But don’t overdo it! Don’t make it feel like a chore to read) (<- says the girl who goes into way too much details sometimes lmao whoops)

But ultimately— have FUN!!! Unhinged characters are fun, so make sure you have fun writing/drawing/creating them!!

[until-another-one-comes]

My body headcanons for some of the boys:

Steven: slim but strong and muscular. He obviously has that military style training. Running 100 laps around the base, push ups, sit ups, swimming in an Olympic sized pool, weight training, anything to build up muscle and stamina. He can pack a punch and can wrestle a bear.

Izaack: absolute beefcake. More than Steven. He naturally has a big build but he works out regularly, mainly to keep his handsome image as a reporter. He’s very top heavy and has big strong arms that can carry two people and give the best hugs.

Angus: really slender. Not muscular at all. Doesn’t work out much but he’s the type to go out a lot. Nothing much to say here but he’s kind of a twink. Fans are saying Francis is a twink but I think the real twink is Angus here. Speaking of-

Francis: he’s mid sized to me. I know a lot of fanart depict him as some muscular anime guy but not to me. He’s not the slimmest but he’s not fat either. He used to have a slimmer frame when he was younger but you know how your metabolism slows down when you age, combined with a couple of poor lifestyle choices like not getting enough sleep and midnight snacking? Yeah. But he has broad shoulders, chest and strong arms due to carrying milk carts. Not the strongest but strong enough for manual labour

ANON YOU UNDERSTAND THIS IS 100% HOW I SEE THEM

YESSS Steven is def a muscle dude. Probably has a punching bag in his house and goes on runs early in the morning (if thats allowed, but still).

Yeah out of all the four guys Izaack is definitely the strongest purely strength wise. Clark Kent type of build. Oh my God he is literally Clark Kent.

'He can carry two people and gives the best hugs' that is so fucking cute I love that.

YOU ARE THE FIRST PERSON I SEE WHO AGREES ANGUS IS A *TWINK*. I see most people saying its Francis but HELLO WHAT ABOUT THIS REGINALD COPPERBOTTOM LOOKING GUY?? Mfer has NO muscles. Built like a stick. I think its cuz people see him as a mob boss/mafia guy which is understandable but while I do think he's skilled with a gun and whatnot that still don't mean he's not a twink! (Despite this he does struck me as the type to have a ton of energy so there's that)

Finally, Francis. You are so right anon- he's not a twink and he's not a muscle guy either (no hate to anyone who draws him with muscle, I'm not exactly against that *coughs*). But yeah he's definitely average and in between in terms of build. Calling him a twink isn't right cuz his job still involves SOME manual labor. I also hc he had a bunch of odd jobs before being a milkman so theres that.

Oh wait this is a nice time for me to share a silly little headcanon. One time Angus saw Francis walking carrying a bunch of milk crates and offered to help him carry one. Francis handed him one and Angus immediately toppled over from the weight. After that he immediately just ran back to his apartment and too embarassed to look at Francis in the eyes for a week.

On a cuter note, Steven usually helps Francis with carrying them.

GASP

STEVEN AND IZAACK GYM BUDDIES

[moonlight-prose]

LONG & LOST

a/n: this is part of the haunted hoedown event that i've decided to take part in. i saw it on @inklore's blog and immediately fell in love. when i saw that dark academia was on the list i knew it had to go to steven. i'm a dark academia fiend and sticking him in that trope has always been a dream of mine. so here's a slightly darker take on a love story with him. enjoy!

summary: you were the poison in his veins, the pomegranate seeds on his tongue. yet he wanted more. he needed it...just as he needed you.

word count: 4.8k+

pairing: steven grant x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, angst, dark romance (kind of but honestly not really), desperation, addiction to a person, dark academia setting, spitplay if you squint, body worship, p in v sex, cumplay, cumeating.

Lamps casted a soft glow throughout the library, giving you enough light to work by yet not enough to actually see anything else clearly around you. It filled you with a sense of comfort, your body sinking further into the chair as you flipped page after page in your book. In the distance, you could hear rain pouring outside, thunder rumbling in the sky every once in a while. If you weren’t mistaken, you could hear the shuffle of the librarian walking the rows, placing the books in their rightful place.

His name was Steven, a man who had stuttered over his words slightly when you spoke. Not out of nerves, but sheer excitement—unable to get the words out fast enough as you two quickly got lost in conversation. However, that was the first and final time you spoke to one another. He seemed to evade you every time you came close enough to start up a conversation—his back, the only thing you saw most days as he walked the other direction.

Even now as you got lost in the words before you, Steven’s presence still remained. Looming in the depths of the library. You could never lose him entirely. Not when he still kept so close yet so far away—his need to be near you only grew the more time you spent in the darkened building.

Eventually a crack of lightning struck the sky, lighting up one side of the library for a brief moment, before the lamps that stood on various tables were extinguished. Leaving you in complete darkness—your phone screen, the only bright thing you could find. You cursed under your breath, setting the book on the table with a soft thump, before getting up. Going in search of someone.

But the longer you walked down the rows of bookcases, the more you came to realize…you were the only person left. Everyone either avoided the place today due to the weather, or chose to go home early. Even several of the other staff members had vanished, heading out for the night and leaving you alone with none other than Steven.

You found him wandering the rows with a flashlight, checking to see if anything was wrong. Simply the sight of him in a button down and soft jacket was enough to send your heart racing. Although you were certain he wouldn’t say the same. In all honesty you were convinced that Steven didn’t like you. That he avoided you because he didn’t want you to be a part of his life—which you accepted, giving him the space he so desired.

However, you couldn’t have been farther from the truth.

Steven stilled at the sight of you illuminated by your phone’s soft glow, the knit sweater you wore doing absolutely nothing to hide what you looked like beneath it. He felt his cheeks flush at the thought of you bare—an image he refused to let himself conjure up in his head. He knew it was wrong to think about you that way, given that he’d been avoiding you. Yet he couldn’t stop himself.

Not when you looked at him that way. Your eyes soft and welcoming, as if asking him to speak, to finally give you what you both wanted.

“I think everyone went home,” you said, causing his heart to stutter in his chest.

He searched desperately for something to say, words—anything. “I’m nearly done here,” he replied, shifting awkwardly on his feet. “You can go if you want.”

Your heart dropped to your stomach. “Oh…”

So much for actually talking to him. It seemed that Steven was more interested in getting you out of the library than keeping you in.

He caught the disappointment on your face, in your voice, and felt guilt begin to claw its way up his throat. The last thing he wanted was for you to leave. Fuck if he had his way you’d be here with him constantly. But Steven—ever the man who excelled at words—could no longer find them when he was around you. Which was simply ironic for a librarian. So, he stepped closer, drawing your eyes back up to this face, and watched as your entire body seemed to react to his presence alone.

For as much time as he spent avoiding you, he spent an equal amount of time studying you—your expression as you read, the way you lit up when something good happened in the story. He wanted you to do the same for him. To burn for him. Just as he did for you.

“Or you can stay,” he finally said, watching your sullen expression begin to lift, a light returning to your eyes.

“I can?” you murmured.

He nodded, his lips pulling up into a soft grin, and for a moment Steven swore he could see you melt. “I might need some help. Checking to see if people are still here.”

You had never heard a more brilliant idea. “Okay,” you said, a smile tugging on your mouth. Heat seared through your chest when Steven’s eyes flickered down to your glossy lips, his gaze darkening for a brief moment. Nearly causing you to combust on the spot.

“Where do we start?” you asked, breaking through the silence and dragging his attention back to your eyes. His cheeks were stained red, tips of his ears burning as he looked away quickly, realizing he’d in fact been staring.

You found it cute.

“Left side?” He pointed his flashlight down a dark and empty row. “I’ll find you after yeah?”

You set the flashlight on your phone to shine brighter. “You’re not coming with me?”

There was no reason Steven had to go with you. In fact, you knew the setup of the library like the back of your hand, so getting lost wasn’t a possibility. But this was the most you had ever talked with him, the conversation flowing with ease just as it did before. Only this time you were adamant to keep it going—refusing to return to the silence that seemed to plague the both of you.

Steven glanced at you once more and caught the sight of determination in your eyes. There was no avoiding you anymore. No more running to hide from his true feelings. And if Steven was being honest with himself…he didn’t want to. He’d never felt this infatuated with someone—the crush so strong at times it nearly felt painful. Yet in spite of all that, he knew the feelings were merely one sided; a love that would never be reciprocated.

But you were standing before him, telling him you wanted to spend time together, and Steven felt the cloud shrouding his heart lift—allowing sunlight to break through once more.

“No of course,” he said softly, latching onto the feeling of hope that filled his chest. “I’ll come with you love.”

The nickname sent a small thrill through your body, something warm trickling down into your stomach. Without another word you turned away, starting right where he said, hearing the echo of his footsteps behind you as he followed along. Thunder continued to rumble outside, proving that this storm wouldn’t be over for a while. So, you walked slowly—meandering through the different rows and picking up books that were left behind on tables and random shelves.

It felt nice. Simply being there in silence with him. As much as you yearned for more—a conversation that told you more about him, about why he’d avoided you—this was good enough. The scent of books filled your senses as it always did, but above that you could smell him.

Steven’s scent was warm, soft, like a slow tune you wanted to listen to on repeat, a book you never wanted to finish reading because once you did, you’d grieve it like an old friend. It clung to the air, filtering into your senses until all you could smell was him.

You longed to know what he tasted like. Would his kiss be flavored with the taste of his tea? Or would it be minty like the gum he sometimes chewed? You felt the breath catch in your throat at the mere idea of kissing him—finally divulging in that one dream you kept like a well guarded secret. But that’s all it would be.

A dream.

“People rushed out of here in a hurry,” you said, noting the open books scattered on several tables. They must have wanted to make it home before the storm got worse.

“I closed up the library. Told em’ to go home before the streets got bad.”

You turned to look at him, seeing how he gently organized the books on a cart he’d found in one of the rows. “You closed the library?”

“Mhm.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

He froze, eyes focused intently on the book in front of him. Steven figured if he didn’t respond, you’d drop the topic altogether. Yet he didn’t know the level of stubbornness you actually possessed in your body—the need to know stronger than anything else. You waited patiently, watching as he stepped into an aisle to place the book in its proper spot. All the while the rain pattering against the window continued to fill the void of silence that hung between you.

“Steven?”

He let out a breath, his brown eyes meeting yours—a timid look reflected in them. “You looked busy.”

A blatant lie, but you wouldn’t press him on it right away. “Busy?” You quirked an eyebrow, feeling the ghost of a smile on your lips.

“Reading,” he clarified. “I didn’t want to interrupt you.”

That soft and familiar warmth was back, melting into you. “You let me stay to read?” He nodded with a relieved smile. “But that’s not the only reason is it?”

Steven looked like a deer caught in the headlights and he felt like it too. For a brief second he swore his heart stopped—his nerves jumping beneath his skin. He couldn’t back away from the truth now. Not when you were so close to uncovering it yourself. Except the more you pressed him, the more he could see that this is what you wanted. To be here with him surrounded by books, in the midst of a storm.

“I wanted you to stay.” His words were a soft utter, barely a breath of air, but you heard them as if he’d pressed them against your ear.

“But you always avoid me.” It was the truth. He did what he could to make sure your paths rarely crossed. While at first you believed it was due to the fact that he couldn’t stand you. Now you could see it was something entirely different.

He looked distraught, eyes shifting between you and the shelves behind you. “I didn’t mean to.”

“You didn’t…mean to?”

Letting out a long sigh he ran a hand through his already unruly curls, a few falling into his face. “I want to talk to you—believe me—you’re just…you’re—”

“I hope there’s a good ending to that sentence,” you joked, a nervous smile flitting across your lips in the hopes of dissolving some of the tension that remained.

“You’re everything,” he murmured, his eyes drinking you in freely, thoughts running through his mind that would have made him feel bad before. Yet now he could see the want in your eyes.

The same craving running through your veins.

“Oh…”

“I didn’t avoid you because I didn’t like you. I avoided you because…” he trailed off softly, uttering the truth for the first time and feeling the weight leave his shoulders. Steven was known as a shy reserved man, but beneath the surface he wanted so much. He just never felt strong enough to grasp for it.

“I’m everything?” you asked with a breath of awe, stepping closer and watching as his whole body stiffened. But he refused to move, not when you were finally giving into what you wanted.

He nodded quickly, his breath coming in and out as if he couldn’t get enough. Your soft perfume wafted through the air, filling his senses until he felt drunk off you and yet you were still a foot away. Still too far for him to touch, to reach out and give in to his desires. Steven had finally come to a conclusion of what you were to him, what your presence did to him. You were the poison in his veins, the pomegranate seeds on his tongue. Yet he wanted more.

He needed it…just as he needed you.

“Yes,” he breathed, his cheeks stained red and eyes wide. But you weren’t focused on that. No, your eyes were solely stuck on the sight of his lips, how they were parted slightly to take more air in lest he pass out from lack of oxygen.

“Steven…” you murmured, taking the final step, and his walls came crumbling down.

Gathering you gently, his lips met yours in a feverish kiss that made your whole body melt. A kiss that turned you drunk on his scent, the warmth of his mouth against yours. The kind of kiss they described in ancient literature. You dug your hands into his curls, a soft moan pressing into his mouth as his tongue slid along your bottom lip. It wasn’t perfectly put together, pristine in all its nature, because that wasn’t Steven.

He kissed you with a sloppy passion, teeth clacking together and tongue delving into the heat of your mouth. Tasting the coffee you drank, the desire on your tastebuds. He groaned when you cupped his cheeks, licking into him deeply, your body pressing against his with a debauched fervor. In all your time of being here, of being apart from him, you always indulged in the fantasies of knowing what he tasted like—what he kissed like. Now you knew.

Now you took and took until neither of you could breathe. He worked his lips down your jaw, his spit spreading along your chin when he pulled away. You moaned, head falling back and hands grasping onto the breadth of his shoulders. Steven was adamant on finding the places that would make you sing, the sounds he craved to hear. And you keened when he bit down on the juncture of your neck and shoulder, hips rolling against his in a need for friction of any kind.

“Oh—” You stumbled back, hand slapping against the table behind you. He still remained wrapped around you, reaching down and pulling your leg up around his hip.

“I want—” he gasped, burying his head into your shoulder, hips canting down to grind perfectly against yours, ripping a sharp gasp from your chest. “I need to—please love—”

“Yes.”

You shifted, ripping at the buttons of his shirt, his jacket somehow on the floor already. It flickered in the back of your mind that you had torn it off him the second he started kissing your neck. Everything was a haze in your mind, until you couldn’t discern anything but his touch, his taste.

“Yeah?”

You nodded, lips finding his again in a wet kiss, your moan swallowed by him as he fell into it. His hands stripped you of your sweater, warm palms finally touching the bare skin of your waist. It was euphoria in the best way possible. As if you were finally indulging in the one desire you always wanted. His eyes were stuck on your chest, watching as it rose and fell—the lace of your bra perfectly shaped around your breasts. You opened your mouth to ask him to touch you, but he was already ahead of you.

Leaning down, he spread his tongue along the top of your left breast, hand coming up to cup and knead the other one softly. His thumb brushing along your peaked nipple. He wanted to consume you, devour every part of you, and the knowledge that you’d let him is what did him in.

“Fuck,” you cried, your head falling back and back arched to press your chest further into his face. “Oh god!”

Groaning, he pulled down the cups of your bra—revealing you entirely—before taking your nipple into his mouth. Your hips shot up, pressing against the prominent bulge in his pants and watching as he squeezed his eyes shut, his teeth scraping against you. Something intense pulled at your stomach, heat flooding you until you could do nothing but fall back against the table. Steven followed you, unable to part his mouth from your body—worshiping any part of you he could reach.

He wanted to taste you until you were a mess beneath him. Only able to utter one word—his name. He’d never wanted something so bad, never gave into something as desperate as this.

A loud crack of lightning shot across the sky, sending light through the stained glass windows for a brief moment and you caught a clear glimpse of Steven’s eyes. His pupils were blown wide, swallowing the soft brown of his irises, lust overtaking his features. He looked like a man starved. Someone who would do anything—say anything—to have one simple taste of what they wanted most.

You just so happened to be that for him.

The mere thought that he was willing to do whatever he could to have you sent heat streaking down your spine, your body bending to his soft gentle caresses. He looked at you like the most important thing he’d ever seen. As if you were a priceless carving created out of the finest stone.

You were art and he longed to admire you for as long as humanly possible.

“Need you,” you murmured, dragging his lips back to yours and swallowing his soft needy whine. “Want you to fuck me.”

His broken moan was pressed into you, his hand scrambling for the button on your pants. He mumbled something nearly incoherent underneath his breath. Whispering how beautiful you were, how lucky he was to be with you like this, how he’d let you consume him entirely. It was enough to have your toes curling and body calling out to him.

“Perfect,” he mumbled, sliding his hands down your torso. “Bloody perfectly.”

Your lips curling into a grin, eyes dazed with a fucked out look nearly sent him to his knees. Steven’s mind reeled the further he pulled your pants down, until they were in a pile on the floor and you lay before him bare from the waist up. The lace of your panties were wet. He eyed the prominent dark spot, licking along his bottom lip he practically watched you drip. Because of him.

“I want to taste you love.” His thumb ran along the edge of the lace on your hip, sending a chill through your body—your eyes fluttering shut briefly.

“Later,” you gasped, hips pushing up to chase his touch. “I need you Steven.”

He sighed softly, falling over your body, kissing up your stomach with soft delicate touches that sent a flurry of butterflies through your body. For so long he’d kept himself away from you for fear of this never happening. Yet now here you lay. Begging him for his cock so sweetly it nearly made his heart give out. His hand slid underneath the waistband, fingers dipping into your slick and his eyes shot up to yours—shock quickly spreading across his face.

“This all for me?” he asked in disbelief, his fingers dipping even further until he circled your entrance lightly.

You moaned, teeth catching your bottom lip as you nodded. “All for you. Always for you.”

Steven hurriedly reached for the button on his pants, making quick work of getting them off. Leaving him to stand bare before you, his cock pressed up against his stomach. Your eyes trailed down the length of him, admiring how red and swollen he was, how he leaked for you, practically begging for your mouth. If you were coherent enough, you’d have gotten on your knees for him, but Steven was adamant on simply tasting you. As if he’d dreamed of it since you first met.

“All for me?” you whispered, licking your lips at the sight of his hand wrapping around his cock.

He nodded, a moan falling from his lips. “Always for you love.”

Sitting up, you wrapped your arms around his neck, dragging him closer until you felt him press against your stomach, smearing the precum along your skin. It drove you wild.

“I want you in me,” you begged, wrapping your legs around his hips and dragging him closer. “Please Steven. Want to feel your cock in me.”

A pained groan escaped him, his hand pushing your panties to the side and thumb pressing against your clit until your legs trembled slightly. He made a promise to himself that before tonight was over, he’d be between your legs, tongue delving inside of you. But for now he was just as wanton as you. Needing to feel your cunt wrapped tightly around his throbbing cock.

Notching the head at your entrance, he forced himself to pay attention as your face went slack, eyes rolling back slightly at the feeling of him stretching you open. Inch by inch he pressed into you, until your back was arched and a garbled moan of his name was pressed against his lips. He grunted, staving off that brilliant sensation of bliss to push the rest of the way in with one swift thrust. Until he was buried so deep he felt sanity begin to slip from his mind.

“Fuck,” he groaned. “So fucking tight love. S-So perfect for me.”

Your mind went blank, a fire roaring through your veins as he simply held himself there. His cock stretched you so well it nearly burned, but you were past the point of need. If he didn’t move you were sure you would lose your mind entirely.

With a soft whine he pulled out leaving an empty sensation in you, the need to have him close nearly overwhelming you. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your chest, teeth nipping softly as he pushed back in, and you lost the remainder of your soul to him. Crying out you dug your nails into his back as he repeated the motion, nearly tearing you in two with his thrusts.

“Feels so good,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your neck. “I knew you’d feel good.”

Your walls clamped down around his cock at his words. “Ah—Steven—”

“I’m here.” He reached for your hand, dragging it up and pressing it into the table. “‘M not going anywhere love. You’ll never get rid of me.”

A high keening whine tore from your throat, eyes meeting his as the sting of tears began to rise to the surface. “I don’t want to get rid of you. Never.”

“Yeah?” He sped up slightly, watching your mouth fall open, a tear slipping down into your hair. “You want me to stay forever?”

You nodded, legs tightening around his hips. “Uh-huh.” Your words came out so high pitched you should have been embarrassed, but you couldn’t. Not when Steven was fucking you so well that you could barely grasp onto a single thought in your head.

The rain pounded against the window, drowning out the sound of your skin slapping together, but above all the noise you heard it. The audible sound of his cock sliding through your slick. An echo so fucking depraved it nearly flung you off the cliff then and there. But you needed more. You needed Steven to fall with you and by the looks of him—his curls damp with sweat, face red and eyes focused on the way your breasts bounced—he wasn’t far behind.

“Oh fuck!” you cried, feeling the very crest of pleasure begin to build. “Steven—fuck please please—”

He grinned, his hand falling to your clit and driving you even higher. It happened quicker than you expected. You screamed his name and heard it echo in the empty library, the storm doing nothing to overshadow how lost you were. He watched in rapture as you fell, your cunt clamping down so tight he was sure he’d fall with you. Except he was too focused on trailing his eyes down every piece of your body, how it called to him.

Slamming his hips into yours, his thrusts became sloppy—needy as he chased his own release. And without realizing it, words began to spill free. The truth he’d kept to himself for so long. Yet now that he was buried in you so deep he’d never leave, about to spill into you, he found he could no longer hide it.

“Tell me—” He gasped, falling over your body and digging his fingers into your hip to keep you in place. “Tell me this is more.”

You nodded, unable to even speak as yet another orgasm began to build in your body.

“You’re like a sickness, a disease…” He grunted, his hazy eyes watching your face contort in pleasure. “And the only way for me to be cured of you…” Another broken sound tore from his throat, his balls drawing up painfully. “Is to let you completely consume me—”

“Steven!” you wailed, his words causing the pleasure to break within you, flooding your body with a mind numbing sensation.

He fell forward, his lips smothering yours in a spit filled kiss. “Until my body has no fight left,” he gasped, finally spurting into you. White flashed behind his eyes and for a moment he couldn’t discern whether it was his body or the lightning outside. Yet he found he loved it either way.

With a soft pained moan, he shallowly thrusted a few more times until the combined mixture of your cum began to spill out. Coating the tops of his thighs. The feeling of it only made the painful overstimulation worth it. But eventually he had to stop, your nails digging into his shoulder letting him know you were past the point of pleasure.

His hand slipped down, gathering the sticky substance on his fingers and drawing it up to your breast. Watching with a parted mouth as it shined in the night. He leaned down without thinking and gathered your nipple in his mouth, hearing your soft moan echo off the bookshelves. Steven couldn’t get enough of you, couldn’t find it in himself to ever let go, because you were an addiction in his veins. He’d had a taste and needed more.

Something told him you felt the same way.

“Love?” he asked softly, stirring you from your dazed state.

Your eyes fluttered open, the sight of him slightly hazy, but it was beyond perfect. He looked fucked out and happy—the soft grin on his face caused your heart to flutter. You wanted to curl around him, to keep him inside of you until the sun came up. But you could feel the hard wood of the table dig into your hips, your body sore from being put in this position.

“I’m here,” you smiled, cupping his face and bringing his lips to yours. “Mm. The table is uncomfortable.”

His eyes went wide for a brief moment. “Right, sorry. One sec. I’ve got you.”

Pulling out and shushing you softly with a kiss when you whined at the loss, he helped you off the table. Until you were both lying on top of your clothes on the floor in a heap. His warmth felt comforting in the cold air of the library and you caught sight of a candle flickering in the distance. He must have lit it when the power went out.

Steven sighed, running his fingers down your back lightly, tracing shapes you couldn’t make out and symbols you didn’t know. When you came to you’d have to ask him what they were. But the exhaustion was slowly pulling you under. He shifted, pressing a kiss to your temple and wrapping his leg around your hip.

“Darling?” You mumbled, tapping him lightly on the chest to let him know you were listening. “Do you actually want me to stay forever?”

He no longer sounded like the Steven that was determined to fuck you within an inch of your life. No, this was the man who avoided you to hide his crush for as long as possible. This was the man who wanted to know if you meant what you said. If forever had the same meaning to you as it did to him.

You grinned, pressing a soft kiss to his chest and snuggling in further. “Until all the stars die in the night sky,” you mumbled, knowing he was smiling as he kissed your head.

“Yeah. That sounds good to me.”

“Me too,” you breathed, feeling his arms wrap around you tighter, the rain now a soft echo in the background as your ears adjusted to a different sound altogether.

His heartbeat.

[uninformedartist]

So just finished watching the ep so review. Spoils ahead:

So the episode was ok to me, solid 6/10 one of the better episodes which since this was supposed to be an "extravagant" ep why does it got better quality than the main eps, idk Viv has her moments like this ep and other eps its a train wreck in writing ect.

Mammon worked on my nerves, from design to his movements, personality ALL of him was annoying, which props for an annoying Villian but its Villian I never want to see back again and he's hinted for some sort of return.

Side tangent: Mammon is like the how many-ith Villian to get a return ep/hint at one. It was 1st cherubs, then dorks, then stella/ice twink, striker/crimson now Mammon & according to the leaked storyboards a ghost guy that tries to talk IMP into off-ing themselves... its a flipping lot and cherubs & dorks seem to be forgotten dispite dorks knowing & having hard evidence they exist, flip Viv chill it with your Villian of the week cos its way too many now.

Anyway, Blitz didn't need to be in this ep besides the flashback. Ozzie got him to talk Fizz out of being Mammon's puppet but ultimately Ozzie spoke him out of it & gave him courage to quit/confront Mammon. Even Blitz being a bodyguard/killing people for Fizz could've been any imp. Blitz is starting to feel like Steven from SU, in every ep even tho the ep doesn't need him/ the episode surrounds topics a wee child shouldn't be in (i.e Lapis trauma dumping on Steven & he a child isn't really equipped to handle that situation).

My fave part of this ep was Ozzie and Fizz. Ya'll I legit prayed Viv wouldn't mess these two up and my prayers were answered. Absolutely a joy these two were. Fizz especially what a darling. Loved that small scenes with him and the deaf imp child, l dont know sign language but it looked genuine animated and was just sweet moments.

From their interactions, Fizz's panic attacks/self doubt felt & were genuine... I felt that as someone that has panic attacks from high stress on my studies/life. It was just handled well. Fizz feeling less than and needing to prove himself from 1. his past 2. his appearance, that accident affected his self image/worth so much (why I felt him forgiving Blitz was too hastily done but I digress) & 3. him doing this Mammon contest still to gain/earn Ozzie's love for him cos Fizz believes Ozzie only sticks around because of this fame Mammon gave Fizz. Ozzie finally saying what he loves about Fizz was lovely, wanted that in the 1st ep but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯. Their song was... I didn't like it BUT the message in it was beautiful. Lastly Fizz saying fuck you to Mammon from the courage/strength Ozzie gave him was a nice send off... also Ozzie saying he loves Fizz ah ngl that made me smile agh I just love them. I want to see them more than the Stolitz show but thats only a wish. Props Viv, you get 1 brownie point not messing this up.

Last findings, the ep was bloated as hell my soul Viv please stop cramming so much in an ep, this one is 30 mins long & yet still felt bloated. Pacing was a motherfuka damn it was bad & the swearing was jarring (its a Viv written ep I don't expect any less but still gonna point it out) and the comedy wasn't so prominent in this ep, Blitz/Mammon gave some comic relief but in the best and worst ways:

The way the VA delivered this line "to be fucked" made me laugh, the line is cringy but the delivery lol gold

Aand Blitz, my soul shut the fuck up & get out this ep. Last ep & this one he said something so agonizingly cringe I pulled my face

The world of HB is legit American hell or earth just painted red since Fizz named all these places in America just "hellified" where his fans come from.

And very last, congratulations Salem glad you got the cathartic send off you deserve from working under Viv, truly fuck you "Mammon" indeed :) also glad they credited you this time.

[spartanexperience]

Howdy! Uh, I’ve got a little request, feel free to answer as you please. Could you perhaps provide a drawing of your Selene (who is absolutely beautiful by the way)? I happen to have my own takes on both Eos and Selene and would love to draw all of them together!! Thank you!

OMG!! I would love to see your interpretation of them!!! <3 the Titan Gods of sun/moon/dawn are some of my favorites among Greek gods, I love seeing people's different takes on them!!

And I'm so flattered you like my Selene design and wanna draw her and my Eos!! Can't wait to see!!! <3 Sure thing, here's a ref image I did of the children of Hyperion and Theia sometime ago.

yes aside for Eos they're super tall. Ares is a GREMLIN compared to them lmao

As for my Selene design, I imagine her being pretty much the serious, elegant and no-nonsense, but at the same time a perfectionist fussy lady who is secretly soft. A lot like Pearl in Steven Universe XD Her and Eos often have their differences and sibling fights, but they stick together!! And they also comforted each other, when their romances with mortal men ended in tragedy. (Tithonus with Eos, Endymion with Selene)

[anika-ann]

Cracks in Foundation (S.R.)

Type: one-shot, standalone or part of Love on the Brain series

Pairining: Steve Rogers x reader    Word count: 6000

Summary: Dating Steve Rogers is a curse and a gift. Even as it was always a privilege, right now, it feels like the former. You really want to smack some sense into him so this never happens again, but you know it will – after all, that’s half the reason you love him.

In other words, Steve is stupidly brave on a mission and it has consequences neither of you could foresee. But maybe you should have; because now you’re here alone to pick up the pieces.

Warnings!!: Steve being an absolute dumbass, mentions and images of death, hypothermia, PTSD, flashbacks, probably not an ideal treatment of a flashback, canon typical violence, language

A/N: reader is called “Agent Jones”, works for the Avengers Initiative; you do not need knowledge of Criminal Minds or Love on the Brains series to read this, but it will, of course, make more sense. I imagine this taking place much later - in about a year after the events of Love on the Brain; divider by firefly-graphics

In my body I fight fire With the snow, my hell is cold (SYML – Body)

This shouldn’t have happened. This nevershouldn’t have happened but it had – of course it had. You should have seen it coming, both the action and the reaction. All of you should have known better, but you in particular.

Unfortunately, sometimes, despite your ability to profile people, you still failed.

Sometimes, despite your best knowledge of Steven Grant Rogers, you still managed to underestimate him. His literally unhuman body. His profoundly good heart. His incredible strength in both muscles and psyche. His ability to have you burn for him with a single touch. His ability to touch your heart in ways no one ever could.

His extraordinary dumbassery.

You really should have known so much better.

If you had, you wouldn’t have him here, face ashen, lips turning blue, eyes wide and unfocused; he looked like death itself.

You swallowed your tears and tried to battle the ever-rising panic crawling up your throat, closing your eyes for a moment as if it could erase the terrifying sight.

“Steve? Stevie? You’re going to be okay… I’m here. You’re going to be okay…”

You repeated the mantra so many times you weren’t sure anymore whether you were saying it to him or to yourself.

The craziest thing was, it wasn’t even the worst sight of the day you were offered by your exceptional dumbass of a boyfriend; no, that had been what your own mind had shown you. Now that image was going to haunt you forever and despite knowing yelling solved nothing and it couldn’t change the past, you were going to scream your lungs out when you’d get the chance. Later. Right now, you had more pressing matters to attend to.

Like making sure Steve Rogers, your GG, would come back to you.

You needed to get to work.

It was a routine mission really, if such things as routine existed within the Avengers Initiative. It was rather routine in terms of involvement of the actual Avengers; Steve and Natasha joined missions like these – sweep a base, gather intel, make some arrests if lucky enough – on a regular basis. Tony Stark coming with? Less so. Still, one could call it routine enough, even when located in the death of tundra in Russia around 100 miles from the border with Finland.

Besides the cold and Tony, there was nothing extraordinary. Just another mission.

And it had been; until the agents scattered and you heard several voices in the comms reporting they were in pursuit of the enemies. Until you found out they were chasing them through the tunnels and suddenly found themselves outside of the base. Until you learned that outside meant the landscape of the very frozen lake Natasha had purposely avoided landing the quinjet on for the fear of the heavy aircraft destabilizing the already risky environment.

Until you heard agent Smith was down. And by down, they meant under the ice, because a thinner layer of it cracked and broke under his feet. Until Steve fucking Rogers, two hundred and forty pounds of muscle and zero brain power at the moment had the wonderful idea to rush to Smith’s aid.

You had made it out of the base just in time to see his navy-blue suit disappear and your sleep for the following nights probably with it. You had stood there holding your breath as if you were the one in the icy water, as if subconsciously testing how much oxygen – as if that was the only concern – you had left before you’d have to make it to the surface for another breath.

It was long. It was too long. You had taken at least two breaths in the meantime and you weren’t sure the panic rising in your chest with every frantic beat of your heart, with every second they did not appear above the surface, was to blame.

Your hand flew to your comms and you cursed yourself for not having done it moments ago.

“Tony-“

“I’m onto those idiots, Squirt, don’t worry,” his voice sounded in your ear, not quite easing your worry in fact.

Steve was still under. Still in the water. Even though you were aware that he survived much worse than a few seconds of icy cold water – try decades – you’d rather he was still conscious when Tony would get his stupid ass out. And the second Steve would be able to hear you, were going to yell, very loudly and probably more than a little hysterical, because what the hell had he been doing beside tempting fate to give him another involuntary icy nap. You were going to chew the hell out of him, your fists curling in your thick microfibre gloves, because you felt like punshing him too, anything, just so you could stop holding your breath.

But you needed him to get out first.

“And get to the jet, your bae will need some warming up,” Tony added, causing you to grit your teeth, even as you were grateful; not a second later, the whoosh of Iron Man’s suit flying above your head blew the few stands of hair that escaped your hat in your face.

Completely ignoring Tony’s inappropriate comment and his sound advice, you remained right where you stood, gaze transfixed where you had last seen Steve, slipping under the surface. Your pulse thundered in your temples as you watched the red and gold of Tony’s suit fly like a flare above the flood of white surrounding you all, nearing the break in the ice, no doubt searching the heat signatures you assumed were fading with each passing moment.

And then the Iron Man himself performed an obnoxious superhero-like landing, complete with fist on the ground and your anger, gathering since you saw Steve dive into a fucking ice soup without a second thought, exploded, your vision turning bloody red for a split second. What the fuck was Stark doing that for?! Did he really just feed his ego while on a rescue mission?! You were going to-

And then the fist landed again. And again and again and then it hit you. You didn’t have the capacity to scold yourself for assuming and assuming completely wrong; the realization stunned you, blood freezing in your veins having nothing to do with the snow and harsh wind hitting your face.

The ice had frozen over. Steve jumped in and before he could emerge, the ice had frozen over his head. The image of a him under water, holding Smith, the fucking moron, to his chest and fighting to punch his way through the solid surface, swinging his arm heavily through the icy water stinging every inch of his skin, losing oxygen by the minute, that was an image that would haunt you forever, even as you had never set your eyes on it.

Then again, the arm of Tony’s suit diving into water and pulling out two men as easily as if they were helpless kittens was etched into your brain just as effectively, arriving with overwhelming relief. With a wordless prayer on your lips, you squinted against the snow blowing in your face to search for a lump of beloved and hated navy blue suit contrasting against the endless white of the plain surrounding the incident.

You’d swear you could hear him coughing, hungrily drinking in air in between when he doubled over as soon as Tony dropped him off in a safe distance from the crack. In the back of your mind, you were aware of the red and gold figure carrying the motionless body of Agent Smith, flying it to the quinjet, the medical team having prepared on the ramp with a stroller and equipment, but your eyes were transfixed on the dark mass of a supersoldier good hundred feet away still. You were almost certain, even from the distance, that he also managed to empty his stomach to make him feel even more miserable. Not that you blamed him; it had to be, apart from really fucking cold, extremely terrifying. It definitely was for you. Just the memory made your feel throat as if squeezed in a vice.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t worry, pick-up number two happening right away,” Tony assured you face-to face, uncharacteristically humourless now that he had set eyes on the momentarily lifeless body of Agent Smith.

You thought you uttered a thank you, but he couldn’t hear it as he was already off to carry your exceptionally idiotic boyfriend along. And so you ran to the jet, boots heavy with snow falling in and biting coldly into your calf and shins, legs stiff from the shock of the experience still.

When Tony finally brought Steve after what felt like a lifetime, you certainly didn’t speak a word of complaint when he also hauled him further into the quinjet into one of the medical cubicles sans a team. You followed, painfully aware of every single muscle in Steve’s body trembling, the tips of his fingers having turned white.

“You can yell at him first,” Tony told you graciously, shooting Steve an ugly look before glancing at you entering just behind them.

“Gee thanks,” you snarked back automatically, tone softening when you met his genuinely worried eyes. “Thank you, Tony, really.”

“Whatever,” he scoffed, but a small smile passed over his lips. “Jarvis, heat up this room for our Capsicle, will you?”

You rolled your eyes at the nickname. Steve wasn’t going to live that down any time soon, probably ever, not after attempting to became an icicle for the second time.

“Certainly, sir. Gradually heating up to 25 degrees Celsius, as recommended in the medical manual,” the AI chimed helpfully, the wave of heat washing over you instantly. The air felt almost tropical after the arctic wind outside, but you were grateful. Steve would need that.

“Thanks, J,” you said, throwing off your gloves, hat and parka as quick as you managed with your fingers freezing, not bothering with more as to help Steve strip his soaking garments as soon a possible.

The silence that settled after rang a sudden alarm bells; it dawned to you at last that during the whole exchange, Steve remained quiet. Way too quiet.

You’d expect the sounds of zippers and Velcro as he was tearing off his uniform, the fabric dripping icy cold water despite the best engineers and designers having worked on the material. You’d expect his teeth to clatter in doing so, colourful curses on his blueish lips, especially when in company of only you and Tony. He had been coughing out water, quite violently, barely just having been dropped in the jet, so you’d think his air-ways would still fight spasm and the biting intrusion of ice, the raspy wet cough not ceasing.

But Steve was doing neither of that, tripling your worry for him in the process.

You moved to round him to get a look at him with an urgent whisper of his name, stomach flipping in fear when he didn’t answer.

The lack of any action or sound was incredibly disconcerting, because it could mean two things: either, he was absolutely stunned, the weight of what could have happened finally falling on him, or he had been already struck by hypothermia severe enough to be acutely in danger despite being a far cry from what Smith had looked like when Tony dropped him off.

When you finally laid your eyes on Steve’s face, your heart nearly stopped. His skin was scarily pale, his lips turning alarming blue, but that, while worrying, wasn’t surprising at all. What shocked you was his eyes; his pupils were blown wide, unfocused, misted over to the point that had he been lying on the ground, you’d swear he was--

Do not even think it. You can’t. He was going to be fine, he was alright, he just needed to warm up, he was not—He was very much alive, you were sure of it, he had to be. But the fact was, Steve couldn’t see you. He wasn’t seeing anything.

With horror, your gaze fell to his chest and in a split second, you realized that his whole body was still. Way too still. He wasn’t moving at all; he wasn’t even breathing. And yet, he was standing upright, almost as if his feet simply froze to the ground and that was the only reason why he hadn’t collapsed yet- But you knew, you knew that wasn’t possible, and despite the panic clawing at your throat, you were hundred percent certain that he wouldn’t be standing upright had his heart stopped, so how was he still standing?

It would be baffling if it wasn’t absolutely terrifying. Why was he so still? It literally looked as if he was frozen, as if-

He was frozen.

When it finally clicked, a choked noise erupted from lips, your heart shattering into thousand pieces; but your mind snapped into action, already working on solutions.

“Tony, get us as many of towels, blankets and those small heat packs, as you can manage  and give me full access to J. Make sure we have complete privacy. No one needs to see this.” Your throat was too tight for you to be able to speak on normal volume, but that was the least of your concerns, truly. You were sure Tony heard you just fine.

At least someone did.

“Kinky-?” Tony uttered, confused by your sudden escalated panic and the look you shot him – if looks could kill, he’d already be lying in a pool of his blood.

“Tony, get your ass fucking moving or I’ll swear to god I’ll strangle you in a way that will make Sam McDowell look like an amateur.”

Whether he knew the name of the prolific serial strangler or simply understood the urgency in your tone, he had enough wit to take his leave without further protest and with relative hurry, leaving you focus fully on Steve. Oh Steve. The absent brilliant blue of his irises had your stomach make another unpleasant somersault, your eyes filling with tears, nose tingling in anticipation of a full sobfest.

You so couldn’t afford that now. You couldn’t afford screaming either, but good god, did you want to – you wanted to stand in front of a mirror and scream your lungs out because how could it have not punched you straight in the face right away? How could you have not seen it coming?! You only had years of experience in profiling, with dealing individuals struggling with PTSD among other things. You only known Steve for years, knew what he had endured. You only learned about the sacrifice of Captain America in high school, several years ago.

God, the icy water. Could there be any more obvious and deadly trigger?

Of course Steve’s gaze was absent, his whole mind was. He wasn’t here with you, not in time and not in space; he was in the water. In a water so icy it was turning solid, trapping him for decades to come. People couldn’t breathe under water. People couldn’t breathe when frozen in a mass of ice.

Now you understood the reason for the absolute stillness of his whole body including his chest. Steve’s mind was locked so firmly into the memory that it either shut his body – because logically, he wouldn’t be able to breathe, let alone move in the prison he found himself in – or it latched onto his survival instinct, screaming at him not to breathe to prevent the water flooding into his lungs.

You fought your instinct to gag when the iron fist that realization hit you square in the stomach and sent bile up your throat.

So not the time. You needed him to snap out of it. And you needed it fast before you’d lose any more precious seconds.

“Steve?” you called out lowly, giving zero shit about the crack in your voice. “Stevie? You’re going to be okay, but I need you to breathe. Can you do that for me?” you pleaded.

Grimacing, you released an involuntarily whimper when you got zero reaction. You pushed through the lump in your throat, forcing yourself to repeat the words in normal volume. The only response you got was the ever-present unnatural stillness; and Steve’s lips gradually turning bluer.

Your thoughts whirled in your head, mind desperately trying to latch onto any knowledge and experience you had with dealing with PTSD. You had never encountered someone with similar problem, never dealt with a flashback of this magnitude; Gideon had once taken the lead with a soldier trapped in his mind, murdering civilians for he believed them to be enemy soldiers, but that was Gideon. Jason Gideon, with his mind of steel and twenty-five years of experience. Jason Gideon, one of the founding fathers of the Behaviour Analysis Unit himself.

On your own, you were at loss with someone so far gone; but what you knew had to be enough. What you knew was that the only way of breaking Steve out of the prison his mind had created was to anchor him in reality, to appeal to all his senses.

The problem was that the majority of stimuli Steve was receiving from his senses matched the very environment of his flashback. The reality you would try to ground him in was his clothes soaking wet in freezing water and him being on a planewith a voice of a woman in his ears, trying to sooth his suffering. In other words, the reality was how he ended up buried in the ice in the first place.

Aware that you were shaking like a leaf yourself, jaw set so tight it was beginning to hurt, you were also painfully aware you couldn’t just stand there doing nothing with cheeks wet with tears and stare at the strongest person you had ever knew involuntarily depriving himself of oxygen. You had to do something.

Touching him was, frankly, a terrible idea; touching anyone with a flashback would be, because you’d be risking triggering a fight or flight response instead. Touching Steve and triggering the fight part in a supersoldier however, get him run on pure instinct? Now that could result in your broken neck or crushed windpipe really quickly. That idea truly didn’t sound appealing to you; and Steve would never forgive himself. You’d rather avoid that.

You took a deep breath, releasing the air shakily as your mind raced. Alright. Time. If you couldn’t ground him in space, you needed to ground him in time.

“Steve, GG, look at me. I’m Agent Jones – I’m Sparkles,” you said urgently, taking care to voice every syllable, daring to step an inch closer to him, hoping to fill his field of vision completely. “And I’m right here with you. There’s no water. Nothing’s stopping me or you from breathing.” You exaggerated an inhale and exhale, the warm air washing over his face, but without any effect. “There’s plenty of air, GG, for both you and me. Please.”

You dug your nails into your palms when nothing happened but your love staring back blankly, unnaturally stiff.

Steve could hold his breath for a long time – much more than an average human, his lung capacity unmatched – but he had also been drowning, so you really couldn’t count on that. You were running out of time. He was going to pass out. Sure, his breathing would kick in then and hell, maybe losing consciousness would be a blessing compared to this, but that sleep would not be peaceful and there was no telling what the wake-up call would look like other than really fucking unpleasant. The idea of him escaping one nightmare only to be find himself in another and then another until he woke up to the reality just as harsh, as if freshly having lost the whole world he knew all over again, chased fresh tears into your eyes.

“What’s wrong?” Tony’s voice snapped you from your focus, your heart nearly bursting through your chest.

Jesus, how long had he been standing there?

Not important; and you didn’t have time to explain. Without thinking, you spilled the truth in as few words as possible, in the very same breath you tried to appeal to Steve again, your gaze never shifting from his pale face.

“He’s having a flashback, please leave, thank you for the blankets-- GG, please. Breathe with me, there’s nothing to be afraid of, I promise. I’m right here. Trust me. I can breathe just fine…”

You could not. You felt as if someone smashed your ribs with a crowbar for laughs and hit and hit until you couldn’t breathe in without blinding pain, but you knew, you knew it had to be nothing compared to what Steve was facing and you needed to get a grip, you couldn’t wallow in it and you couldn’t let the biting fear consume you. Not with Steve like this.

You were out of other options. Gulping, you oh so slowly lifted your trembling hand, settling it against Steve’s ashen cold cheek. You only got as far as your skin brushing his when a vice-like grip on your wrist stopped you, tearing your touch away and completely immobilizing your hand in the process.

He didn’t look at you as you hissed in pain; he was still far, far away, not moving an inch more than strictly necessary to stop you. But the jolt of pain into your wrist was accompanied by a loud gasp for air, his ribcage expanding right in front of your eyes.

A wet laugh escaped you. “Oh thank god.”

His fingers might as well be made of ice, just as freezing and just as rigid, clutching at you with all the might his body was probably capable off and it hurt. But at least it wasn’t your throat in his grip; you could both breathe. That was a tremendous win.

You still needed to anchor him further and actually bring him back, but the door to his mind were unlocked at least. Now you needed to appeal to all his senses, talk him through it, so he could open the door himself.

“Agent Jones? Do you require assistance?” Jarvis asked warily, no doubt reacting to your physical distress.

Rightfully so, because it was growing – if it was possible, Steve’s fingers dug further into your flesh, already making for a bruise, you were sure. Your fingertips begun to tingle, strange numbness spreading through your hand, but you were far too gone to give up now. You could handle this. You’d get Steve release you on his own.

“Not for now, J, thank you. We’re good—actually, Jarvis?” you called out lowly, the artificial intelligence instantly letting you know he listened. “Can you play me a song? I need to get Steve in the modern times.”

“Certainly. What would you like me to play, Agent Jones? Something contemporary?”

“Yeah. Contemporary and irritatingly ear-worming,” you muttered, mind racing.

A song Steve would hundred percent know, one his mind would without a single doubt identify as something modern. It was the biggest assholery of your mind to push the melody of Let It Go into the forefront of your overstressed brain before anything else, but a hysterical chuckle escaped you anyway, forcing you to lick off tears from your lips. It was the stupidest thing and the worst irony ever – because yeah, the cold really fucking bothered you now and it sure bothered Steve.

“Something way too overplayed on a radio, preferably without the words cold, snow, ice and such in it, J.”

It was only half a second later, when Taylor Swift’s Shake It Off came out the speakers.

Despite yourself, you snorted, fresh tears springing out. This time, you appreciated the irony. That was what Steve needed, right? He just needed to shake it off. He’d be fine.

Taking a deep breath, smiling through your tears and the growing pains in your wrist, you got to work.

You told him what he was hearing. The engines, the song, the heating running, your voice. You told him what he could see, your hair, the colour of your eyes, the Avengers logo etched onto your uniform and not an SSR one, the high-tech equipment you knew he could have never seen in his original time. You told him about the heat washing over his face and hair, your hand in his.

The owlish, painfully slow blink you elicited was a victory, bringing a smile to your face, drying your tears, bringing a softer and softer tone to your voice as you continued speaking.

“Steve? GG? I know it’s cold and I want to help you,” you said gently, trying to meet his gaze as it began to slowly roam to room; still absent, but not misted over anymore. “I could help you by taking off that wet suit, taking away the cold. But for that, I need you to let go of my hand so I can-“

You gritted your teeth and squeezed your eyes shut when the response you got was the exact opposite, as if he was mad at you for even suggesting it; you stifled the whimper at the prickling his grip sent through your arm. It was hard to tell whose hand was paler now; he definitely cut off your circulation and it was not a pretty sight. But you only had yourself to blame and you promised yourself you’d never do otherwise.

It was only when the numbness replaced the pain that it dawned to you where the problem might be.

“GG, please? I promise I won’t leave. I’ll stay right here with you. But I need you to release my hand so I can take that cold away. Only the cold, I swear.”

You nearly cried when the pressure on your wrist gradually eased, a shaky exhale sounding a lot like a whine escaping you. That was most definitely more than a bruise; you allowed yourself a few seconds of deep breaths, fighting off the dark edge in your vision.

Then, you grabbed after one of the small heating pads, snapping the thin metal plate inside to initiate a chemical reaction; in an instant, the thick liquid began to solidify and warm up. You placed in into Steve’s still open palm, hanging loosely by his side, enclosing his icy fingers around it despite the gloves getting in the way. You winced at the sharp pain shooting through your arm. Definitely more than a bruise. You repeated the process to warm up his other hand, finally going for the Velcros and zippers on the front of his suit.

Thankfully, the temperature Jarvis had set melted the microcrystals of ice around the metal, allowing you to undo it relatively easy. You felt Steve’s eyes on your now, his body slowly, oh so slowly getting on with the programme, fists unclenching when you needed to pull the sleeves over his hands without dropping the pads.

“You’re doing so good, Stevie, so good,” you praised him softly, loud enough to speak over the second playing of the song in the background. You were going to hear it for days, you were certain. And you’d hate it forever, too. “You’re a great help, GG, thank you.”

When he dropped the pads, you made a quick work of undoing his gloves too, before pushing new pads into his hands. His thick pants followed; the boots though, those were trickier.

Fuck this. You swiftly searched the transparent cabinets for scalpel, slicing the material through as carefully as you could with your still trembling hands. The water was still brutally cold against your fingers; and your wrist was beginning to throb. Almost there, you soothed yourself, wondering whether you’d manage to make Steve sit down so you could take off those boots and the pants… and underpants. You’d rather have him keep his dignity, but his boxer shorts were soaked through as well and way too close to his core… maybe if you placed enough heating pads around…

The truth was that despite your instincts screaming at you, you knew you didn’t have to worry that much about the physical effects of the low temperature on him. As awful as it sounded, you knew he could take the icy cold – that was part of the problem. It was the numbing memory constructing the perfect trap for his mind, the dissociation, that took precedence, as unusual as it was. And if you weighted the pros and cons…

Well. It wasn’t like his dick was going to freeze right off.

You stood to your full height, licking your lips as you faced Steve again. He was watching you now with surprising intent; you tried to give him a reassuring smile, raising your unharmed hand slowly enough for him to register and placed it on his ribs, almost under the armpit, ready to support him in case his muscles didn’t quite respond to his command as expected when you’d ask him to sit down.

What you didn’t expect was for him to crumble under your touch.

Over two hundred pounds of muscle was too much for your body to carry. When he leaned onto you without a single warning, his knees giving way, dropping his whole weight on your shoulders, you tumbled to the ground as you were without a real chance to slow down the fall. Your hands instinctively attempted too, but you knew you could add bruised backbone and your other wrist to the list on your injuries.

And while pain briefly shot through you very bones, you soon didn’t give a damn.

Not when Steve buried his face in the crook of your neck, arms gripping onto your body like as if it was a lifeline, harsh breaths and heartbreaking sobs escaping his lips, shaking his usually strong frame; but maybe that was just shivers from the cold. His skin was still almost icy to touch, his nose like an icicle as he pressed to your collarbone over your thermals, wet hair tickling your chin; his pants at his ankles, his boots, barely keeping together, still as his feet. You let them be as they were. Instead of stripping him further, you managed to reach for at least one of the pads and throw it into his lap, the blankets and towels too far away.

You enclosed Steve in a hug, achy hand carefully resting in his hair, the other running soothing circles on his back in a poor attempt to console him. His tears seeped into your shoulder and you never cared less for anything in your life; yours in return disappeared into his hair. Sweet nonsenses were spilling from your lips, drowned in his ragged sobs; you whispered his name over and over, his name and all endearments that came to mind and even remotely fit him. I’ve got you, love. Sweetheart, I’m here, sweet, I’m here… oh GG, my gentle giant, giant heart, I’ve got you, this will pass, I’ll help, I’ll help, I’ll help you stand up again. You’re doing so well. I’m so proud of you, baby, so proud…

The song, thank god, stopped playing as soon as Steve broke.

You could feel his body weighting a ton, every muscle weary, strung and feeble at once, and yet, it was his mind making for most of the weight he couldn’t bear. Feelings he normally hid behind a wall as tall as Tower of Babel so he could lead others into battle with a brave face now oozed off him and soaked your skin and mind. You could only imagine the onslaught of emotions and memories, reminders of all he lost, the ghost of having woken up in the new millennium for the first time looming over him.  

The way his fingers dug into your forearm, clutched at the flesh of your waist, it would hurt later; but at the moment, those long agonizing minutes that felt like an eternity, you barely felt it, instead consumed by overwhelming grief for the kindest and strongest soul you had ever met. The best man, breaking in front of your eyes and in your arms.

It took long minutes before you dared to move, just enough to reach for the blanket and strip him off the pants and shoes at least. You never went too far. The volume of your voice decreased along with Steve’s, along with the tremble of his exhausted body. He melted into your frame, falling asleep right there, held in your considerably weaker arms and you were grateful.

In a low voice, you asked Jarvis to notify Steve’s therapist – and yours, even if with less urgency. The worst of it was over, but you weren’t naïve as to think that just because the storm was over, there would be no damage and no need for restoration.

For now, you held Steve and tried to keep him warm, not blind to the fact his body combined with Jarvis’ service was already drying off the last piece of clothing he wore. You ran the fingers of your unharmed hand through the golden damp strands of his hair, pressing a kiss to his forehead every now and then, hoping his sleep was dreamless.

Minutes or hours later, Natasha was the one to find you still curled one into other, gently telling you that everyone had already left the jet and that she’d send medics over in a few. You gave her a brave smile even as you were feeling everything but, your adrenalin wearing off and leaving you on the brink of breaking yourself.

When two medics rolled Steve away and you followed, refusing to move an inch farther from Steve than necessary just in case he’d unexpectedly wake up, a third one forced you to take an x-ray as your hand was already swelling.

As it turned out, there was a crack in both your ulna and radius, the mass, however strong, having been unable to withstand Steve’s strength. The swelling was bothering your nerves and your veins, hence the painful tingles and numbness; but in the end, they were just cracks. They’d heal.

Cracks actually usually hurt more than complete breaks, Doctor Jackson told you. You thought it was quite fitting. What Steve had experienced was not a break, for he was never broken; you weren’t certain he could be. It was but a crack; the foundation of who he was had so far been strong enough to withstand horrors unimaginable. And even though the cracks hurt like a bitch, you’d be there for him to help him through the pain.

The cracks in your bones could be solved by a few pills and rest; his would be a little more complicated.

But you’d help build him up again. You’d help him stand tall. Not for the sake of Captain America, the shining beacon of hope, the façade that could be speedpaint with shines of red, blue and white with ease. No, you’d help repair the real cracks for Steve, the gentlest of giants you knew, even if it would take more time and effort than an icon.

He was worth the trouble; even as you suspected that once he’d wake, he might have a thing or two to say about that. You’d convince him otherwise; you wouldn’t be alone.

And neither would he.

With a splint all over your forearm and wrist and a promise you would do a session in Doctor Cho’s cradle to speed the healing, you settled on the bed by Steve’s bedside, the surprisingly serene expression on his face and the gentle beeps of the heart monitor making for a warm hum of satisfaction in your chest.

You’d heal together. Of that, you were sure.

I was hearing words in black and white Twisted up inside my broken mind Outstretched dirty hands just like a child Hungry little fool, but you were mine (SYML – Body)

Steve Rogers masterlist // Love on The Brain masterlist

Notes (because the first aid trainer in me screams and severe hypothermia is a bitch): normally, first concern would most definitely be the cold, hypothermia and the impending arrhythmia (can be caused by the cold), but a) it was established Steve’s body can take it (proved the hard way) and b) his suit probably kept the absolutely worst away… PSA over.

ANYWAY. I hope you – well – liked it ("enjoyed" feels like a little too strong of a word for Steve’s suffering) 🥰 Thank you for reading! Feedback is life.

P.S. – this will likely be followed by a second part called Restoration, but I make no promises.

P.P.S. - if you wish to read a fluff about "Steve fell through frozen lake" situation, I recommend Frozen by @tilltheendwilliwrite 🥰

P.P.P.S. -  if you are a CM fan, know that the title is a loose reference to Emily's issues in the second half of season seven when she tries to re-settle down with the team and at Quantico.

[jelixpo]

Bismuth is absolutely my favourite character in the show and it kills me how little she's actually in it. I've always loved how confident and self-assured she is and I find her energy infectious. I was rather surprised when the show tried to pair her romantically with Pearl as I hadn't seen it represented that much in the original show, but I don't mind the pairing. If the show ever continues, I would love to learn more about her and what she thinks of the new diamond order.

(Flashing colours in the video below)

[Image description: A drawing of the character Bismuth from the show Steven Universe. She is holding a white-hot sword in her hands and blowing fire off of it. Her hair is slightly covering the sides of her face as she leans down and forward to blow on the sword. The background is blurry and shows a dark forge with bright yellow lava used as lighting along the walls. End description.]

[kit-kat-jo]

My Murder Drones Finale analysis… 1/2 - 2/2

i stayed up until 2 am with friends last night (who i roped into binging the series with me) freaking the fuck out and theorizing, so next morning post hello!

i am FAR from done with this series, it’s been my hyperfixation and comfort show for over a year, and i pray y’all don’t die out too quickly because i have so much left to share. This show and community has blessed me in so many ways, and no way I’m letting it go just yet.

so now, of course, my frame by frame crazy analysis! ready? cool!

spoilers of course!

firstly i love how the first character they hone in on is the teacher, just laying on his desk and accepting his fate. like “really?……. ok. i guess.” fucking hilarious. man is so done.

the solver straight up pulling a Cluster from Steven Universe is not what i expected…. but so on brand. truthfully i don’t understand how in the end, uzi killed THIS whole fucking thing too when swallowing the [null], but if this finale proved anything to me its that about fifty loose ends are kept loose. and that’s… oddly okay with me?

you spin me like a ballerinaaa-

on my first rewatch i realized she tried to yell out “MOM!” in the vacuums of space… what if i just fucking cry?

mother daughter bonding… i’m so glad they have the chance to properly meet. :’) give this woman a drone body post finale so she can give her girl a hug…

SPACESHIP PILOOOTTT!! i love how all the fan content of N pulling Uzi from space into a ship came to fruition! it makes my little heart happy!!

proud of N here for being mad at her!! it doesn’t last long like i knew it wouldn’t, but still.

another thing i realized in my rewatch is that he stops being mad as SOON as he sees her cry? STOPPP😭💔

and yeaahhhh that doesn't last long.

CLOSEST to a walle kiss i got. and i’m HAPPY with it!!!!! just uh... gonna draw in that little spark later...

solver said: stop being straight :)

this whole scene makes my heart SCREAM, they’re so goofy and awkward and cute, they’re dating!!! i’m so proud of them!! them continuing to do coupley things throughout the fights coming next was absolutely too much.

oh you…. you hear something guys?? YOU SEE THAT?

MY WIFE LIVES!!!!! “itd be better if she stays dead nehnehneh” /lh NUH UH!!!!!!!! ANDDD she’s riding in on the fucking sentinel! my life…. my life is complete…. and i heard that “will it ever end for me,” so Eternal Dream IS one hundred percent HER song!

Oh, V. “We were supposed to get away, J! You said we do our jobs on this planet, and it leaves us alone!” as soon as this was said, i REALIZED. and oh, my GOD, all of V’s actions make so much sense now. J, as the leader of the squad, led V to believe that if they all did their jobs, killed blindly until no drone was left, cyn would leave her and N alone. no more messing with them, tearing them open, mutilating them and traumatizing them. as long as she made N do his job, he would be safe. I’M GONNA BE SO FUCKING SICK!!!!! J mislead them this whole time and was on the solver’s side! she knew tessa was long gone! as much as i wanted a J plot where she realizes she’s on the wrong side, i can’t say i wasn’t secretly expecting something like this.

“There’s no escape, even in death!” J has given up. she sided with the solver to end her own suffering. she sided with the abomination that was tearing them apart, tired of fighting against it. Oh, J. That’s so tragic. Fucked up what you put your teammates through, though.

the aforementioned coupley stuff. YAAAAAAALLLLLLLLUHHH. get a room

now to the fucked up shit. can i just say how much i love cyn’s animations here? she’s so fucked up. love her

you did a lot more than hurt his feelings girlie, LOOK AT HIM! his pure, horrific fear here actually broke me.

ran out of space for images! here pt 2!

[beefslipper]

Halloween Headcanons (Months early lol)

My last post was such a flop I heard the crickets chirping before I even got on tumblr omg

Since nobody is giving me ideas, I'm just gonna do short n sweet headcanons on one (at least) character from each of the fandoms I'm in... Or at least the ones I can remember. Idk why but I can't wait until spooky month so we're doing Halloween-themed HCs!!!!!! I frickin' love the holidays :D

I won't be using images in my post this time just because I'm like half asleep and I need to yap. (I have no energy and I must yap /ref)

First up, Jason Todd! (Batman)

I think he'd avoid dressing up for trick or treating because his fave is Wonder Woman... Bro's not about to traumatize every child that sees him. However, if he is craving candy hard enough, he'd go in a lazier or goofy costume. You know those unicorn onesies? That's for if he isn't in the mood for ghits and shiggles. An inflatable dinosaur costume is his go-to if he's in a better mood.

I bet he'd have everything planned, too. He knows where all the rich people are and which ones give out the full-sized candy bars or any cool light up toys that make little kids jealous because they have no idea where to find them at.

If he were to go trick or treating with anyone, I think it'd probably be the Batfam as a whole (They don't trust him with not stealing some kid's candy bucket).

Next, Touya Todoroki! (MHA)

This is an AU one where he isn't dying because I don't want him to die (Insert sob emoji).

Since Enji himself is in a wheelchair, he isn't able to push Touya around. He was absolutely devastated by that and begged Natsuo and Fuyumi to take their older brother out to trick or treat since Shoto was with his friends.

Touya would either do a costume to heal his inner child or a lazier one that's comfortable and doesn't irritate his skin. Either way, he's demanding that they go to every house around no matter how long it takes. Any time he gets candy he doesn't like, he asks Natsuo to trade with him LOL

At the end of the night, Enji has to lock away the candy so Touya doesn't scarf it all down and get a stomach ache. He does anyway since it was 'hidden' in the same spot it had always been.

Onto Arlan! (HSR)

My boy doesn't get enough love <3

I think his excitement after hearing about Halloween's existence would be enough to convince the spaceship to set up little stalls for him, Asta, MC, and Peppy to run around to collect candy. He and Asta would probably have matching costumes like ketchup and mustard bottles or pb and j or something cute like that. Or it'd be a three-way deal since Asta would dress Peppy up in some cute little costume.

Arlan would definitely sit on the floor with Asta and MC and trade candies so they each get what they wanted. Asta would have some dog treats for Peppy so they weren't left out :)

At the night's end, Arlan would probably be caught falling asleep, still in costume with a half-eaten candy bar in hand.

Now, Bennett! (Genshin Impact)

He, Razor, Chongyun, and XIngqiu would get together and go out trick or treating. He tried to convince Fischl to go with, but she refused, claiming it was far too childish for someone of her status. That meant "Please bring me back some sweets".

He had a bag specifically for Fischl :)

As the night went on, the boys managed to have good luck. Bennett had never been happier since he was internally horrified of ruining the others' night by only getting raisins, toothbrushes, and apples or having someone's bag rip.

All went well and everyone got a pretty good amount of candy. Even Fischl.

Yap session is done! I kinda wanted to do DMCB stuff or Steven Universe stuff, but my creativity juice ran out. I hope y'all liked this one :D I'll probably do another one when it's actually October. (evaporates I FORGOT JJK oh well)

Have a great day, evening, and/or night everyone :DDDD

[fizzigigsimmer]

My fave ballet tube channel out here feeding me plot bunnies for Harringrove Ballet School Au. Just imagine, Billy arrives on campus. Spitting mad cause his dad made him take the bus. Cheapskate wouldn’t even spring for a plane ticket when it’s Billy’s financial aide filling his pockets. He decided halfway there he’s not going to stay. He’s going to hop on the first bus back to Cali as soon as he can raise the money and that’s what he tells Madame Harrington. She may have bought Neil but she can’t buy him. Nobody can force him to stay here - which is true. He’s hoping she won’t want to deal with a runaway and a bad attitude, that she’ll just revoke the scholarship and end this farce for him. Neil will beat his ass black and blue but what else is new. At lease he’ll still have home and the beach.

Madame Harrington doesn’t look happy but she doesn’t get angry either. She makes Billy promise to sleep on it. Sit in on a class, have a real think about what he’s about to throw away. Billy’s not stupid, he knows she’s hoping he’ll see other kids dancing and make some friends and suddenly want to change his mind. It’s not going down like that. And it doesn’t. The class she takes him to is tier one, the advanced class. It’s mostly juniors and seniors but Billy spots a few younger kids and a couple of absolute shrimps who look like they haven’t left the seventh grade. They’re good though is the thing, doesn’t take more than a few steps to see why they’re in here dancing with the big kids. A redhead catches him watching in the doorway and gives him the stink eye.

And then whatever combination they’re doing ends and everyone is clapping, and the instructor calls out that it’s time for their soloist. “Be the swan, Steven. No spaghetti arms!”

The energy in the room just changes, the chatter lifting in anticipation as the students drift back to the edge of the room as a solitary figure steps forward. He’s got good shape. Strong legs - so long - and lean arms. Those fucking tights love him - holy shit. Billy can be forgiven for missing the first few steps he takes while he blinks away the after image that bulge has burned into his fucking retinas. But when he’s capable of seeing beyond it again, he sees this kid - this Steven - floating across the floor in some of the prettiest lines he’s ever seen. He thinks the number from Swan Lake. Thinks Steve-o is gorgeous when he’s not fucking it up, playing to the crowd and losing focus. It’s only a wobble here or there, just minor imperfections.

It annoys the shit out of Billy.

“Who’s the diva?” he asks Madame H. under the sudden swell of clapping and cheering as the boy’s solo comes to an end.

She smiles, a twinkle entering her eye.

“That would be Steve. My son.”

Her son? Wait! That’s Steve Steve? The kid he used to penpal and trade basketball cards with. That’s Steve Harrington?

“Oh yeah?” Billy sneers, hoping to hide how dry his mouth has gone. Challenges with an arched brow, “Teachers son thinks he’s hot shit huh?”

But Madame H. seems unperturbed. She doesn’t tell him off about his language or take offense for her kid’s sake, just keeps smiling at Billy with that little glint in her eye that’s too fond for comfort.

“He’s been best in his age group since he was eight. Makes it hard to keep him challenged. I was hoping that would change with you here now, but if you’re set on leaving I guess I’ll have to come up with something else.”

It’s so stupid. Some reverse psychology bullshit, but damn it it’s working because Billy isn’t as keen on leaving as he was when they walked in.

“You sure that’s what you want?” He asks, barely waiting for the perplexed look to form on her face as he shrugs off his duffel bag. He strides into the room like he owns it, feels the heads turn towards him as his sneakers thud hollowly on the hard floor. The chatter dies as he calls out, “you call that a dance?”

His eyes lock with the boy in the center of the room.

Billy will show him a dance. He’ll show them all.