#even though the real world connotations of that are a bit... yeah

[gamequeenanya]

The Park Ranger - (Lee!Phone Guy, Ler!Animatronics) (Freddy and Friends on Tour)

Summary: Freddy discovers a sweet park ranger putting up safety signs. His name tag has been scratched off and he seems kind of nervous. After investigating, Freddy finds his boss and evidence of abuse. Can Freddy help this poor man? // Warning for dark themes, through the lens of children’s show characters.

...

During one of his treks around the area, Freddy found a man in the forest putting up signs. The signs warned people that there was dangerous wildlife in the area and for them to be careful around it. Freddy appreciated the warning, but he was perfectly happy performing here. After all, he could easily scare anything unpleasant off if he had to. The man smiled and leaned against a tree, deciding to take a break and watch the performance.

Freddy smiled at him and performed with the band. Later, he came by to introduce himself, but found the man had fallen asleep! Heh. Well, he knew how to fix that!

"Tickle, tickle~!" he teased, drumming his paw pads along the man's sides and waist. The man kept his eyes closed, but tensed and started to laugh.

"Hahahahahhahaaa! Q-quihihiihiiit ihihihit! Ihihihih'm awake!" He laughed, wiggling around and pushing Freddy's paws away. Looking up, he gulped, seeing how large Freddy really was. "Heh. S-sorry I fell asleep during the concert! N-no hard feelings?"

Freddy looked at him sympathetically. "Of course not. We all need our sleep. And you look like you need more of it!" He noted his eye bags.

The man looked away. "Uhh, yeah... I kind of need to work eleven hours a day right now, without overtime. M-my boss isn't too happy with me, b-but I'm trying my best, really!"

Freddy tilted his head, wondering who the man worked for. And why they demanded so much of him. "Well, you can rest in our van if you want."

"No, I-I can't!" The man looked down at his watch worriedly. "I-I've got to get back real quick! The boss needs me."

He ran back into the woods before Freddy could ask any more questions.

...

Later, in the van, he'd told his friends about the mysterious man.

"Awww, poor little guy! It sounds like he needs a friend." Chica said worriedly.

"Yeah, we should talk to him before we go. Maybe give him free concert tickets?" Bonnie offered. From the corner, a voice piped up.

"...Ayyy, it's worse than that, me friends. I'm afraid our poor matey's sufferin' from an abusive relationship. That boss is givin' him an illegal amount of work."

The others gasped.

"What can we do...?" Freddy said.

Foxy rubbed his chin in thought. "I suggest we don't take our eyes off him."

They came over to the window to check on the man. And he was gone.

...

At a lone cabin at the edge of the forest, there was a single light flickering in the window of the room.

Freddy knocked on the door.

"Is anyone home?!"

There was a scuffling sound as whoever it was came to the door. It was a brown haired man in a purple uniform. He grinned at Freddy.

"Oh, hello. Don't worry, Mr. Bear. There have been no forest fires around here recently! You may go now." And he hurried to close the door. Freddy held it open.

"Wait. I'd like to come in and talk to you a little. Are you employing that nice young man who put up the signs?"

Purple man's smile fell. "Mm. Perhaps..."

"Can you tell me where he is right now?"

Just then, someone came out of the kitchen. It was the man who'd put up the signs. And he was holding an ice pack up to his cheek. He looked curiously to see who was at the door, but quickly stepped back into the kitchen when he saw it was Freddy.

Freddy rushed inside, not bothering with manners. Going right up to him to check him over. "Hey! You! Are you alright?"

The man backed up more.

"Yeah, I-I'm fine! I just, uhh, slipped on some ice!" He said quickly.

"But it's summer..."

Seeming more panicked, he took Freddy's hand and began to lead him to the door.

"Please. Y-you need to go now. Trust me, I-I'll be fine." He smiled, trying to look convincing. As he looked up at Freddy with his fake grin, he realized he forgot to press the ice pack to his cheek. There was a dark mark that looked like it had been made by a hand. And there were multiple points of impact. The ice was quickly put back to hide it.

Freddy growled. "No." He glared at the older man in the purple uniform. He was smiling back at him from the sofa, holding a cup of tea. Like there was nothing Freddy could do and that he needed to leave. Freddy felt an overwhelming urge to clobber the guy right then and there. But sighed and walked up to the door. He felt horrible about leaving, but he didn't want to just attack someone and get sued. So he'd go. There had to be something else he could do...

...

Coming back to the campsite, Freddy told the rest of his band what was happening.

"Poor little guy..." Foxy said. "There must be something we can do."

"Like what?" Bonnie said.

The others thought for a while.

"Well, hmm..." Foxy said. "Now bear with me on this. How about we invite him on our tour? That way he doesn't have to deal with that smelly old brute."

Freddy raised his hand. "Wait. I've seen what he's like. He thinks he's fine, and would probably shoo us out of there..."

Chica put her hands on her hips. "Then what do you suggest?! Kidnap him??"

"No," he shot back. "There has to be a better way."

...

So there the man was, sleeping on the bed in the back of the van. Freddy had made sure to scratch some things up in his old room to make it look like a wild animal had come in through the window and had gotten him. It had been 12 hours since their little heist, and the man was still asleep. The sun was just beginning to rise.

"You think he'll be mad at us...?" Bonnie said.

"Oh yes," Chica replied. "Very, very mad."

Freddy was driving, but he was very worried. They'd just made an impulsive decision to save someone that could cost them. He hoped they made the right choice.

"W-who'll tell him the bad news?" Bonnie wondered. Foxy trotted over.

"Make way, will ya? I'll tell 'im." He sat down in the booth in front of the man and looked him over. It appeared that the man's nametag had been scratched off by a pin. He wondered why. "Err... landlubber, we've err, set sail."

The man hummed happily in his sleep. He was kind of handsome, with light brown hair and soft features. Foxy smiled.

"Ain't he precious?"

He reached out to nudge his shoulder to try and wake him. But the man just rolled over, refusing to get up. Foxy looked at the scene helplessly. Observing his hook, he knew he could easily hurt this man, and that wasn't what he wanted.

Chica chuckled, and handed Foxy one of her feathers. "I have an idea!"

Remembering Freddy's actions at the start of their concert, he grinned. So Foxy carefully secured the man's ankles, being careful with his hook and only pierced the couch cushion. Chica slipped the man's shoes off and paused. She brushed the feather over his socked feet to see if that did anything. A flinch, but nothing more.

So she continued slipping off his socks, and then ran the yellow feather along the sole of his left foot.

The man curled up, giggling.

The friends smiled.

"Aww, is someone ticklish?" Bonnie said. He observed the scene with a grin.

"N-noooooo~!" the man whined.

"Someone needs to wakey wakey!" Chica sang, brushing her wing all over his soles.

"HAHAHAHAAHAAHAAAHAAHAHAAAA!" He gasped, not expecting a full attack so soon. And realizing his feet were trapped. "OKAHAHAHAHAHAY OKAHAHAHAHAAAAY! I'LL WAKE UP!"

Curling up and opening his eyes, he saw the band members whom he'd dreamt about having actually put him in their van. And they were moving.

"Wahaait. W-what's going on?" He looked out the window. "Where are we headed? What have you done...?"

Instead of sounding mad, his voice was sad and a little fearful.

"We rescued you, silly!" Bonnie said. The others nodded.

"Ayy, it's true." Foxy admitted. "We didn't want you around that rapscallion any longer. He wasn't fit to scrub barnacles off the sides of me boat."

Freddy turned around in his driver's chair.

"It's not really a kidnapping. You can get off the bus at any time. If you want, we'll drop you off at a police station and they should be able to help you. Put you in protective custody and all that." He explained.

The man blinked away tears. "N-no one's ever c-cared about me this much... T-thank you. But h-how do I know your plan will work? I-I don't want him coming after you too..."

There was worry in his voice.

"Hey." Foxy placed a hand on his shoulder. "We'll take care of it, alright?"

He didn't have a plan but didn't want the man more stressed than he already was.

And then there were arms around him. And there were tears. Lots and lots of tears. Foxy didn't know what to do, since he wasn't usually the one people sought comfort in. He uncertainly patted the man's back.

"There, there... Things will be alright. Don't worry about a thing."

...

It was now midnight of the following day. The man had sought custody and was assigned a therapist for what he'd went through. The band was stopped at their last location for the tour. Freddy was currently on  the phone with the manager. He looked more and more down the longer the call went on.

"Bad news guys... Our manager quit; he said he found all the constant hassle of the job was too overwhelming. He's settling down for something more local."

The others gasped.

"But-but what about the band?!" Chica said.

"Is this our last spot ever?" Bonnie said worriedly.

Foxy hummed. "Perhaps not. I think we know a guy..."

It was a bit of a long shot, but they had nothing to lose. So they called up their friend.

"Hello-hello?" he answered.

"Yes; it's Freddy and friends. How are you doin'?"

"A-a lot better, actually."

"Okay, so we might just have a job offer in store for you. It pays better than what that jerk gave you, and for less hours. You'll be our new manager! So, what do you think?"

"Oh, yeah. Uhh, what will I be doing?"

Freddy explained that the duties of a manager were to call different places and book showtimes for their band. He'd also be handling all the money and payment duties.

"Ooo, that sounds easy! I'm in!" He said with a smile.

"Great!"

Freddy smiled as he hung up.

"We have a new manager!"

The others all cheered and high-fived each other.

[differenteagletragedy]

Hi, if you're willing, could I request some clingy Cove headcanons? Thanks

Clingy Cove is the best! Love him to bits.

-- When it comes to you, the boy just does not need personal space. It's not a requirement. Totally unnecessary.

-- If you do need it, that's fine! He'll absolutely give you as much as you need with zero complaints! Being clingy often has a negative connotation, but that's not what it is with Cove. He fully supports you doing whatever you need to do emotionally, having friends, being with your family, all of that OBVIOUSLY.

-- But if it was entirely up to him, he'd just rather be with you always. You are home to him, you have been for almost his whole life. With you he feels safe and comfortable, he feels like himself. He feels seen and accepted and loved, and it's the best feeling in the whole world.

-- So if you need some time to yourself, just tell him, ok? Because otherwise he's going to want to be right there.

-- You don't actually have to DO everything together, parallel play is wonderful! If you work from home, he'd just want to hang out in the same room if he's home too. If you're cooking dinner, then he can help, or at least sit on the counter looking pretty. If you need a nap and he's not sleepy, maybe he'll lie down with you anyway and read. And when he's older and more settled, why take two showers when you can just share one?

-- For real on that last one though especially, he's in ORCA, he's going to be about water conservation. Baths/showers together are very very important quality time.

-- It's like he just sort of doesn't understand the appeal of being alone if he could be with you. Again, if you do, that's great, he's more than willing to work with it.

-- I am going to be lazy and copy and paste something from another ask because it fits here too and I was thinking about this one when I wrote it lol

-- The whole thing about Cove is that to him, you are the best person in the world. And that's not just something to say, he literally thinks you are the best person in the entire world. He doesn't know most of the other people, sure, but he doesn't have to because how could anyone else be better than you? Remember, when he was little he thought you were actually made for him, and even though he's grown up and he's realized that's not how people work, the general belief is still there. You are the only person for him, and in that way, you were made for each other.

-- When you live together, if you like to sleep in or if you just sleep a little later than he does, every day is going to start with him trying to figure out if he should get his day started or just cuddle you for longer.

-- Sometimes if he really needs to get something done and decides to get up while you're still sleeping, he'll feel bad and try to sneak back in bed without waking you up. This, or if he really is just too busy, you have to get in bed earlier to make up for the lost time.

Cove: Come on, it's bedtime!

You: It's 8:30.

Cove: Yeah, and there's a cuddle deficit that we need to address.

-- He knows the exact math on this, don't try to argue with him.

-- I could genuinely do this all day.

-- What if after Step 3 you move away? Man is that gonna be hard.

-- I don't generally like the idea of taking Cove away from the beach, but I think if it's between the beach and you, he's going to pick you every single time.

-- So it may take him a little bit if plans are made more last minute, or if you don't confess right away, but if he knows you're going to college for FOUR YEARS far away, or if you get a job in another state? He's going to have a hard time just letting that be that.

-- When you are apart, he will text all the time. He's not expecting a conversation every time, he's fully aware of how clingy he is, but if he sees something that reminds him of you, he'll send you a photo, stuff like that.

You: *checking your phone on your lunch break to see several texts from Cove*

Cove: Do you remember when that bird stole dad's sandwich lol *sends video of bird*

Cove: I wish we were at the beach

Cove: Can we make fudge tonight

Cove: I miss you

-- This is obviously cannon, but when he gets settled he doesn't care that everyone knows how clingy he is.

-- Why would he? He is SO PROUD to be yours!

[choco-pudding]

Space Channel 5 Gyun Gyun Book p. 41-43 and 120 plus the sticker page. (Translations by @lavoszero and myself. Edit by myself.)

Behold, the weirdest part of the book. It’s impossible for me to verify the romaji of most of the names listed on p. 120 so they have been left untranslated.

Imgur link to all of the Gyun Gyun Book translations we’ve done thus far.  

Plain text below

p. 41

Kazutoshi Iida's First Bit Love ~ I Fell in Love with Ulala ~ Everyone goes through sweet, sad, and passionate feelings. That's love, after all. But how could someone handle that if the other person in question isn't a real human? The following is a story of an awkward but sincere action of a man who fell in love with everyone's favorite, Ulala-chan.

Inker - Illustrator / Emi Ikematsu Text / Kazutoshi Iida (Actual Name)

#1 [First Time] It was around November 1999. Game designer, Kazutoshi Iida was traveling around Japan to promote Doshin the Giant 1. He traveled mostly to Kyoto, Osaka, Kobe, Sendai, Hachioji, Yokohama, etc., these were mainly morning trips; he would have to return to work on his main project, developing a game (Doshin the Giant: Liberation Front Chibikko Chikko Collection is scheduled for release in early summer, 2000). In addition, even though it was just promotional, the audience still averaged about 40 people at every venue. Although this wasn't a very efficient publicity campaign, and Iida, who had been nervous about the new start-up of Landnet Didi Co., the company that purchased Doshin, could only take his mind off of stress by working himself as hard as possible.  

By the end of the promotion, Iida was completely exhausted. His usual physical health had been deteriorating due to the three years of working on Doshin and the stressful tour.

He wasn't able to eat properly for a while, and was suffering from the usual autonomic nervous system symptoms, which included cold sweet, loss of breath, motion sickness, and extreme exhaustion, as if he wasn't already picture-perfect. But even then, while in this state of exhaustion, he still had to work on designs. The world is a tough place, isn't it? It was during this very rough time, that a disc in a colorful package arrived in Iida's hands. It was the demo version of Space Channel 5. Iida managed to unwrap the package with shaky hands. After all, it was the latest work by Tetsuya Mizuguchi, one of the hottest, coolest, and nicest of guys in the game industry. There was no way he wouldn't check it out.  

With a rush of adrenaline, Iida managed to understand the words in the manual. Oh? A rhythm game. And you can even play as a lady? That didn’t seem that ambitious. What's your plan, Mizuguchi? However, that first impression was completely forgotten once he started the game. "It's good, it's good, it's really, really good!" Iida's mind, which had been in a daze for a long time, was finally wide awake.

[Translator’s notes: Yeah, the connotation of “first time” is the same in Japanese as it is in English. Alternatively you can say “first encounter” but this is literally what is being said.]

p. 42

#2 [Maybe it's Love?] Why did Iida feel so happy all this sudden? He asked himself that. First of all, the game is simple yet very nice. The music was great. The so-called enemy, the Morolians, are cute and lovable, but that wasn't it. That wasn't it at all. There was a more powerful feeling. What was it? What is it? What could it be? What? After about 10 hours of thinking while playing the demo version, Iida was confused, but came to a conclusion. "Have I fallen in love with Ulala!?".

Though Iida had never been attracted to a virtual character before. Whenever he saw a super-cute virtual gal, he would flip though pages of idol photo albums, mumbling to himself, "Hmmm, I say 3D is waaay better." (His favorite is Megumi Okuna).

It was shocking that he was seduced by an attractive video game character. With most "competitive games," there wasn't any point with being charming. The cute charm of Space Channel 5 was not only because of Ulala's attractiveness, but also because of the charming feeling that was in the entire universe in the game which all added more to Ulala's charm. The strength of her determination was very admirable too. That's why he was love struck with her.

On one hand, Iida, who spent 31 years of his life not being smitten by virtual ladies, was very surprised that he fell for Ulala. In a sense, it completely went against all his standards he had over the years by falling for her. Naturally, his defense instincts kicked in, and he vehemently tried to deny his feelings of affection, but once he likes someone he can't deny it. There was no way to suppress the feelings that were building up in his heart. That night Iida fell asleep with a conflicted heart.

The following day, Iida found himself single-mindedly drawing Ulala's portrait on the back of an advertisement. It was like he was in a trance. He had the exact look of a man in love. Iida declared to himself loudly, "I'm in love, I've fallen in love with Ulala!"

#3 [Love Letter] Iida was honestly happy to have fallen in love with Ulala, but she wasn't someone who existed in this world. Iida had no idea how to deal with this. Who could he possibly send the letter to…? Ah yes, Mr. Mizuguchi! After all, he was the creator.

The rule of thumb to writing a letter like this, was to review before sending it to the post office the next morning. However, Iida's love for Ulala was so intense that he forgot even that basic rule. He wrote the love letter in a single sitting late at night, and without reading it over, he sent it off to Mr. Mizuguchi. He immediately replied, "For real!?"He didn't sound too happy about it. He must've made Mr. Mizuguchi feel really embarrassed thinking back to that… but Iida couldn't help it being swept up with love. This comment led to Iida's feelings for Ulala to take an unexpected turn.

[The Email]

From: Mizuguchi To: Kazutoshi Iida Subject: [Redacted] Date: Mon, November 29, 1999 8:01 PM

For real!?

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

From: Kazutoshi Iida To: Mizuguchi Subject: [Redacted] Date: Mon, November 29, 1999 6:12 PM

It's not like me to write in the middle of the night. Sorry, I couldn't attend the Q-Front event. I couldn't go to Osaka because of serious feelings.

I wanted to. I really wanted to see everyone there (at the Q-Front) and ask about these feelings. I was so excited, but Ulala has been on my mind so I couldn't make it.

Thank you for sending me the demo version. Usually, I'm never attracted with dating sim games. But you know, I actually fell in love with Ulala. So much that I asked [Redacted] to go out and buy me a poster of her!

I've never felt like this before. I've never fallen in love with a virtual person before, so I have no idea how to address this situation.

I'd really love to see more of her. Please make more [Redacted] and even more merchandise! I really love Ulala!

I'm sorry for this ridiculous email. But I really like her! I hope that this doesn't make me sound like a stalker.

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

Kazutoshi Iida http:// www. kyojin. com

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

[Translator’s notes: In the original text of the email, Mizuguchi ‘s email is said to be sent on Tuesday but the day is still the same (Nov 29, 1999) which would have been Monday. Not sure what that’s about.]

p. 43

#4 [Financial Difficulties] How should feelings of affection for fictional characters be expressed… Create a fanzine? Launch a fansite on the web? Iida, who was troubled by this, looked at his desk and saw a figurine of a female character who had been handed out at the Shenmue launch event. Oh, a figure. What a good idea, a figurine. They always make figures. Oh right, figures! Figurines exist as physical objects. You can touch it! You can look at it from various angles! You can talk to it! You can even carry it around! You can go anywhere with it! This is the exact opposite of the saying, "From the atom to the pits," from the classic 1990's book Digital Being, but in this case it'd simply be an arrow pointing in the opposite direction. It's not something that makes sense out of context. One second Iida felt like he was in the Armed Forces, and the next moment, he quickly got his hands on the phone. The person on the other line was Mr. T, a sculptor whom he once asked to make a figure of Doshin. He eagerly agreed to produce the figure.

However, another big problem needed to be solved here: pre-production. The estimate for figure production was about several hundred thousand yen. Iida weighed the worth of money and love. Love by far was the worthier of the two. But, at the same time, came the fact that he couldn't cherish something that wasn't tangible. It was a real kicker.

Hmmmm~ perhaps gambling? Iida was quite the pachinko enthusiast during his school days, and had lived on his earning from it for about a year. Should he try it again? During that time, he exceled at a type of pachinko called Hanemono, which, while not necessarily gambling, was a sure- fire way to make a few coins (relatively speaking). Nowadays, most pachinko parlors only had seven machines, where computer programs controlled the "jackpots." There were very few pachinko parlors that still allowed Hanemono. To figure out where they were, Iida bought a copy of "Pachinko Strategy Magazine" (published by Futabasha) and immediately began his search.

#5 [Figure is Nearly Done!] After lots of searching, Iida managed to solve his financial problem (he struggled, but the "Pachinko Strategy Magazine" helped him a lot). When he visited Mr. T's workshop in Hachioji, Ulala was just now taking shape. It looked good and almost done. Iida's eyes looked bloodshot when he opened the door. His First Bit Love was coming to an end with this. I guess we could call this a happy ending.

What are you going to do when Ulala's figure is completed, Mr. Iida? "What?…I guess lick it."

This happy ending has reached its conclusion. But the merry-go-round of love will never sit still, and will be a story to talk about for the rest of your life!

[Translator’s notes: Hanemono is apparently an extremely old version of pachinko machines; the most common of them are called Mr.Fall. And yes he is saying he’ll lick it.]

p. 120

Thanks

Space Channel 5 Kinda Funky Book

Editorial Production

株式会社レッカ社 (like Lekka-sha Co., Ltd)

関屋智子

軽部裕介

中田宏之

谷水輝久 (Futabasha Publishers Ltd.)

Writers

後藤勝

浦地美樹

Graphic and Text Designer

山田タロウ (Furi Furi Company)

Illustrator

中澤美帆

Photographers

殿村誠士

大沢誠

Progress Management

豊田引 (design-office-OURS)

In Cooperation With SEGA Enterprises, LRD.

Publisher 諸角 裕

Publishing Company Futabasha Publishers Ltd. 3-28 Higashi Goken-cho, Shinjuku, Tokyo 162-8540 Giro 00180-6-117299

Printing Recruit Computer Publishing Co., Ltd. Sanko Printing Co., Ltd.

Misprinted copies with incorrect or missing pages will be replaced. Price and date of publication are listed on the cover. All rights reserved. Any unauthorized reproduction, copying, or reprinting of this book is prohibited. We do not accept calls and inquiries regarding the game or its contents. Thank you for your understanding.

©SEGA Enterprises, LRD., 1999 ©Futabasha Printed in Japan ISBN4-575-16207-8 C0076

[ophernelia]

you’re so right about your post to what i said it just rubs me the wrong way because some simmers i see on here already barely have other sims that don’t resemble whiteness and yes it’s your game do whatever you please but it’s weird asf for you to take a sim … a premade sim and change their skin color completely it’s just annoying if we barely have representation as is why change it you know.

Yeah, I get what you mean. It's a lot stuff that I've seen that's real iffy, but it's not like I can go uninstall the game off their pc lol. It is worth mentioning and discussing though! In some cases, I think it can be helpful too. Maybe people aren't thinking about the social connotations that doing that has. Even with the color correction, there's so much cc out there that people don't even know about. So, that may be new for them too. I try to give a bit of grace.

What a lot of people don't understand is that having a diverse game matters even if it is your own personal one. All types of media we consume have an impact on our world view and that also includes video games like the Sims. While, things like cowplants and aliens may not impact you significantly, its the subtle things like the beauty standards we set within our games. It may not be an outward statement of "only slim black haired sims are beautiful!", but to constantly use that archetype of like an "it girl" in your game is reinforcing some (probably subconscious) beliefs. It may not be intentional or intended to be harmful either! But sometimes we have to investigate where those feelings come from. It's worth the introspection.

There's also a level of nuance there that has to be considered though. A lot of us make sims who look like us! (Whether we intend to or not lol) I have so many sims that are my exact archetype and it's not even done purposefully lol! But regardless, diversity matters. It's good to include and to safeguard. It benefits each of us!

[southstand]

hi!!!!! omg happy to see you!! no worries about the response!!! and ive been doing well too 🫂🫂

yess, his freckles are so so pretty, it really adds a nice bit of detail to portrait shots. and the elle man photos are by kim hee june btw!!!! i think i about vibrated out of my seat when i saw them on insta 🌷🌷 im very partial to the approach he has when photographing muscular models wherein its either not the main focus or, if it is, the shapes are still softer, if im making any sense. like the difference between heungmin’s ck shoot and some of the photos in guesung’s previous one?

but yeah, im VERY excited to see what the rest of the shoot has in store ☀️☀️ the mood of all three pictures is just so nice and im in love with the lollipop photo especially <333

also yesss!! the yoo quiz ep was so fun, i forgot they formatted with multiple guests though so when i first started watching it i was like?? forestella?? but it was fun watching both so ☺️☺️ when seho’s dad came in with the bundle of flowers that was so KJDKDSKKSDK also when yoo jae suk was like not everyone can pull of guesung’s glasses! if i were to put them on i’d look like a financial criminal! 😭😭 the part where he talked about the way their nt supported oh hyeong gyu was really cool to learn about too :]

i loved the little karaoke moment he had with his friend in the ila ep ☺️☺️. and yeah me too!! the way he talked about his family on yoo quiz and then with them on ila, its so precious to see what a close bond they have with each other. ❤️🐯 i always feel bad for athletes that have to follow such strict diets, so i was glad to see that at least he can enjoy himself more..

ahhh when he said life partner i was smiling so hard 🌷🌷 idk if what he actually said has the same connotation in korea but its really sweet to say either way ;;w; 🌈🌈 the tie he wore to the awards cermony is his friends signature symbol too!! from his fashion line, i realized that a little bit before watching the ep 🥰🥰 made it even more fun to see him there

oh! and on a related note, the stylist who’s worked on both of guesung’s shoots also keeps tagging his friend in her posts for some reason ldjsjekddk. like, alongside the credit list for who helped with the shoot 😭😭

about fabien fjskwkd, huh.. i just remember looking him up once, getting shocked that france even had a taekwondo nt, and leaving the page 😭😭 and i knowww, like the fact it was a CAST IRON pan too… 🕴🏻🕴🏻i hope to see more dazed shoots too <333

also yayyy!!! i cant wait for the summer to start ☀️☀️ im hoping for england’s downfall like you would not believe rn.. who will u be rooting for? !! 🎤🎤

and i have been following the transfer dicussion! can’t say i understand it very well but im interested to see where he’ll end up!! mainz would be cool for you then? 🫂🫂 if their offer still stands by summer? i saw that minnesota (???) had offered him a spot too and was absolutely astounded, i didnt even realize they could have a team lmfaoejdhskwkd

hope u had a good day!!!

hiiii!! 🫂🫂🫂 sorry for the late response, missed this entirely in my inbox 😭 but ohhhh i didn’t know those were by kim hee june!! i understand what you mean, the subjects of his photographs are always painted in such a soft light, and i rly like the eye he has for muscular models, so visually pleasing! 💛 i rly love seeing the different approaches that different photographers and magazines have wrt guesung, like for example the vogue cover sent me bc there was this rly popular tweet that was like “타겟층이 내가 아닌 것 같은 이 기분은 뭘까” (why do i have the feeling that the target audience isn’t me) and then all the qrts were kr ppl going “i think men are the target audience” and “are you gay” LIKE 😭

OMG FORESTELLA BELOVED … yoo jaesuk is so funny for real such a great mc 🥰 it was rly lovely hearing abt how they supported hyeongyu bc i think he has a rly bright future! god knows we need some more world class forwards 😭 celtic and suwon bluewings have been playing tug of war over the guy the entire transfer window but i think hyeongyu’s managed to annoy his manager enough into letting him go (he went to him like five times 😭) … rly exciting!!

waaaah could talk abt guesung and dongin for ages but i’ll keep myself in line … just so cute that guesung has a non footballer friend who he can relax and be himself with, like the little karaoke and ‘heater heater!’ moments in the ila ep were so endearing 🥺 he eats rly well i felt myself turning into a grandpa cooing over their grandchild eating well when i watched him 😭 i saw that abt the tie!! it’s so cute ☹️🫂 i think the direct translation of what he said abt dongin was ‘(my) life’s companion’ but i could be wrong bc i don’t remember the exact phrasing atm. either way so cute how everyone sees guesung and dongin as a duo including guesung’s stylist 😭

DEAD abt fabien. yeah i think he explained how he got interested in kr culture on a talk show and i was legit flabbergasted that france had a taekwondo nt 😭 as for who i’ll support … taeguk ladies of course ⚽️ rly excited to see the girls play 🥰

the transfer window for guesung rn is kind of a mess 😭 celtic and mainz were playing tug of war but then park jisung (former star kr football player and now technical director at jeonbuk) fell from my good graces when he rejected the mainz offer (and idk if celtic is rly pursuing him anymore) … now jeonbuk’s training in spain and there’s talks that la liga teams are interested?? idk mainz would still be cool for me bc the bundesliga is a good way to get used to european football, plus lee jaesung from the nt plays there so he’d have someone to rely on in a foreign country, and mainz area generally has the biggest kr population in germany. not to mention the fact that mainz coaches have already reached out to guesung to talk abt how to implement them into their style of play, so him getting minutes is also guaranteed. we’ll see ig … transfer window isn’t closed yet! 👍🏾

hope your day’s been nice 🥰🫶🏾

[extasiswings]

44 please ma'am the serotonin I need it

#44 "You've always felt like home." On ao3 here.

Eddie finds words difficult.

Most people assume that’s because he doesn’t know what to say or how he feels, that he’s deliberately holding back—but that’s not usually the problem. Sometimes, yes—words are difficult because they mean too much, because he feels too much, because cutting himself open for someone else to root around inside of him and risking them finding him wanting is terrifying. But usually—usually it’s that words aren’t enough. They so often feel inadequate on his tongue, insignificant. Besides which, words alone can be so easily tainted.

I love you, I need you, I want you—phrases composed of straightforward sets of three little words. Phrases that he’s said before, but gradually stopped. Because they’re not so straightforward in practice. With Shannon, as years went on, as they broke down, words became qualified.

I want you...but not all of you.

I need you...but I can’t trust you.

I love you...but it’s not enough.

Eddie doesn’t know how to say those things again without those connotations bleeding through. So he doesn’t.

Actions. Actions are clearer. Actions are solid. He prefers actions, prefers symbols, because he’s not limited by the boundaries of vocabulary. And yes, sometimes he still has to find words to use in addition, but it’s easier when there’s something concrete to ground them.

“There’s no one in the world I trust with my son more than you.”

“I forgive you.”

“That’s not going to happen to us.”

“You act like you’re expendable, but you’re wrong.”

The problem is, he can’t seem to find the right combination of actions and words to get Buck to understand his real meaning. The problem is, even if he could fall back on one of those little three-word phrases, he’s not sure Buck would believe him. After all, he gave Buck the most important piece of him, Christopher, legal and notarized and wrapped up in an official bow, and Buck still only seems to accept the bare minimum notion that Eddie wants him around.

So, Eddie sits with his feelings—with love and want and need, desire and trust and faith—he sits with them for months after the shooting while he tries to piece himself back together and Buck dates Taylor. He sits with them when he backslides a bit after they respond to a call with a gunshot victim, when Buck breaks up with Taylor and doesn’t explain why, when Buck goes back to being there with him, with Christopher, all the time, his own apartment more of a formality.

Sometimes, usually late at night when they’ve been drinking, Eddie will look over and wonder if he shouldn’t just close the distance and kiss him. Pull Buck down the hall to his bed and strip him bare, put his mouth on every inch of skin and press love into him until he’s wrung out and gasping. It would be easy.

But. Buck—Buck has spent a long time as an object of desire, believing himself to be good for little else than whatever his body can give to others. And he’s gotten better about that, Eddie knows, but that doesn’t mean Eddie wants to risk sending him back to that kind of thinking. He doesn’t want to give Buck any reason to ever question what he wants from him.

So, no. It can’t be a seduction. Not unless Buck initiates it, and even then he has to handle it right.

It has to be right. Buck deserves that.

In the end, though, it all comes back to the shooting. Which seems…fitting.

***

Buck doesn’t know why Eddie’s suddenly decided to be cryptic as anything. Of course he can have his own plans and they’re not joined at the hip, but Eddie usually does at least tell him things, especially when he’s asking him to watch Christopher. But instead, Eddie’s been vague, on two different occasions just saying that he has an appointment and vanishing for several hours. It’s weird, but when Buck hesitantly asks if Eddie’s back in therapy, Eddie shakes his head, gives him a small smile, and assures him that he’s fine.

So, then, Buck wonders if Eddie’s dating again. And the thought of that—well.

He’s been doing better, is the thing. He knows he belongs, that he has a life in LA and a place with Eddie and Christopher and that Eddie’s not going to show him the door if he gets another girlfriend. Buck knows that. He’s come a long way.

But the idea still makes him feel…sick. Like he missed his chance. Because he’s been waiting and waiting and waiting to be better, to be able to think about being with Eddie in the way he really wants without panic closing his throat as his mind takes him back to standing on a street covered in blood. He’s been waiting for Eddie to be in a better place too.

He thought they had time. He thought he had more time.

He doesn’t know how to ask though. So he doesn’t, just lets it grate at him, itching under his skin. At least, until he happens to look over in the locker room at the right moment a month later to see—

“What’s that?”

Eddie turns his head as he shrugs his uniform shirt on.

“What’s what?”

“That—” Buck can’t help himself from closing the space, tugging the unbuttoned fabric aside to get a closer look at the large swath of black and grey over Eddie’s upper chest.

It’s a sunflower on a diamond backdrop, the stem growing up from the bottom point. The style of the petals makes them look almost three-dimensional and the center is ever so slightly raised, a byproduct of working Eddie’s scar tissue into the design. Buck swallows hard as he stares, his hand lifting unconsciously to touch because he knows what’s there, he knows it’s a scar, he knows because he watched it happen, held pressure on the wound. But Eddie’s not bleeding now. It’s just ink. Ink painting over scars and skin alike and shading the reminder of one of the worst moments of Buck’s life into something beautiful.

“When did you do this?” He asks, only to realize immediately. “Oh. Your secret appointments—”

“Yeah,” Eddie replies quietly. His eyes are soft. “It wasn’t really secret, I just…I was going to tell you when I figured out how.”

Buck blinks. When he figured out how? He glances down again and clears his throat when he realizes his palm is pressed firmly to Eddie’s skin, his fingers splayed over the tattoo. But he doesn’t pull away.

“Why—um. I mean, it’s your tattoo, it’s not my business, you didn’t need to tell me—”

“Yeah, I did,” Eddie says. He looks nervous, glancing away, his fingers leaping to his hair. And for some reason, that makes Buck’s mouth go dry.

“Why?” He manages again. Eddie’s tongue peeks out to wet his lips and Buck can’t quite stop himself from watching.

“Because it’s for you,” Eddie admits finally. “It’s you.”

Buck goes still and meets Eddie’s eyes.

…and of course, that’s when the alarm goes off.

***

It’s a long, hectic shift, with very little time to talk. Which, for once Eddie is grateful for. It’s a conversation he’s prepared to have, but not in public. Not at the station. So when Buck lingers in the locker room as they’re changing to leave, shooting him glances, Eddie bites his lip and looks back.

“Meet me at home?” He asks. And Buck sucks in a startled breath, his gaze searching for a moment before he nods.

“Okay. Yeah. I’ll meet you…at home.”

Christopher is still at school so they have a little time once Eddie walks through his front door to Buck sitting on the couch, staring at his hands and lost in thought. Eddie doesn’t say anything at first, just goes through the motions, slipping his shoes off by the door and dropping his keys in the bowl next to it. And then he sits next to Buck on the couch and waits.

“You said…it was for me?” Buck says finally.

Eddie’s tongue traces the edges of his teeth as nerves shake up his stomach.

“Yeah.”

“You haven’t covered any of your other scars,” Buck points out.

“I know,” Eddie replies.

“So…why?”

Eddie bites his lip and shrugs. “Because I hate that one. And so do you. And because the best part I remember from that day is you telling me that you had me and that everything would be okay. Because I believed that then and I believe it now. Because I wanted—”

He cuts off and clears his throat. He doesn’t know where that sentence goes. He wanted something permanent? Wanted the symbol?

Buck finally looks up from his hands.

“You asked me to meet you at home,” he says. “But you didn’t say…your home. You just said home”

Words are difficult. But these ones are easy.

“You’ve always felt like home,” Eddie replies. “Wherever you are—this place—”

“I’m in love with you,” Buck blurts out, and Eddie’s heart skips.

Finally. Finally.

“Well that’s convenient. Since…I am, too.” Those words are easy and Buck surges forward and kisses him. Eddie presses into it, relief coursing through him.

“Your lease is up soon, isn’t it?” He asks breathlessly when Buck pulls back.

“Yeah,” Buck replies. “Why?”

Eddie kisses him again. “Don’t renew it,” he mumbles against Buck’s lips.

“No?”

Eddie shakes his head. “No. Stay.”

Some words are easy.

[awsuntanz]

a ramble about helium chapter 4 (and dakota’s wonderful characterization)

its 4am, forgive me for any mistakes. i’ve never written anything like this before, aha.

All of these quotes are from Chapter 4 of @heytherestilinski‘s fic Helium!

The way Dakota (the author) fleshes out conflict and allows their painfully realistic characterization to shine is so...perfect. I find myself heavily relating to Dream, George, and even Sapnap at times. 

Here are some lines that I didn’t think would stick out to me (but did):

After a quiet moment, to his soaring heart’s approval, George speaks up again.

This entire kitchen scene portrays that feeling of having a conversation with someone who matters to you. Whether it would classify as something important to someone else or not is irrelevant- to you, in that moment, it feels like you’re holding the world. It’s soft, and tender. You don’t want it to fall flat. You don’t want to let it go. (This scene may or may not have encouraged me to say goodnight to a special someone I was thinking of while reading this).

Sapnap dumps the responsibility of the cart back onto Dream. As he walks past him, he says, “You suck at flirting.”

I really enjoyed the stupid banter between Dream and Sapnap at the grocery store. It not only served as some nice comic relief that kept our guard down before the conflict at the end of the chapter, but it’s also something us readers would definitely hear from (and say to) our friends in real life. Good comic relief is something that eases us in naturally and allows us to immerse ourselves and enjoy the moment while maintaining that element of surprise that keeps us interested :)

He turns away from Dream. “I don’t want to talk about this.”

Dream may be less controlled in his emotions and impulses, but he is very open in sharing them. George has more of a filter on everything. Controlled. Not wanting to push Dream (or maybe even himself) off the edge.

“You wanted to this morning,” he says, low.

“Yeah, because we were in your house, not the middle of the grocery store.”  

Rejection. Denial. George’s response holds some truth to it, but comes off as a haphazard excuse at the same time. He doesn’t appreciate the way Dream pushes for that direct confrontation and frankness when it comes to approaching their situation (and honestly? Neither would I). 

George halts to face him again, with a half-whisper, “Not exactly the best place to ambush me, Dream.” 

I like the use of the word ambush here because of the strong negative connotation it implies. It’s as if he’s saying that Dream sought out to make him uncomfortable. As if this was pre-planned and intentional, and not another one one of his silly impulses.

Dream stares at him wildly. “I didn’t ambush you. You brought up your expectations, not me.” His voice grows tight. “Are you seriously still going to act like this?”

We’ve had enough of “Dream, why? Dream, no! Dream, quit being an idiot!” from the readers. This time, he takes that blame and tosses it over to George instead. Conflict grows stronger.

“Like I’m—I’m this stumbling idiot who forces you into every bad situation,” he says. “It’s exhausting, and doesn't make me feel good about myself, and—” He runs a trembling hand through his hair. “It’d be nice if you took some responsibility, for once. That’s all.”

God, I’m so guilty of how George does this to Dream. Taking responsibility isn’t very fun when you feel like the other person is constantly making irrational, immature, and as we’ve established earlier, overall impulsive decisions when it comes to what they say and do. We assume that the other person should be able to understand us- We’ve put up with them for all this time, haven’t we?

Realizing that having a mentality like this is toxic and draining to the other person as well is... difficult. It’s difficult to remember that they’re trying, and that they genuinely care about you too. The very same things that make them irritating are what make them a loving and caring person as well. It takes growth from the both of you to learn and understand each other. And growth takes time.

It’s 4AM at the time I’m writing this, and I’m far too tired to quote the entire phone scene, so I’m going to assume you’ve read it. 

A few lines from George:

“Can...can you stay on, for a bit? Can we just talk?”

“Please, Dream.”

“I just want to hear your voice.”

A few lines from Dream:

“George.”

“Stop,” he warned. “Stop that.”

“Don’t say that.”  //  “What is wrong with you?”

“Fuck, George. Why are you doing this to me?”

The reason Dream brings this up is because it highlights a moment where their general character roles in the fic are switched. In this scenario, it highlights a moment of hypocrisy. George is desperate, and vulnerable. The phone call dialogue showcases him doing something that he knows he shouldn’t be doing. “Can we not talk about this? Can we pretend this phone call didn’t happen?”

Now, plenty of ugly nights and long weeks later, he steps closer to George in the grocery aisle as an unconcerned passerby skirts around their cart and conflict.  

I’m not sure why I like this line. It feels like a gentle reminder that in the grand scheme of things, your conflict is small. Insignificant to the rest of the world, mattering to you two and only you two. Makes everything a bit more personal, I guess.

He looms over him, wishing he could melt the bristling anger from his brown eyes, and wishing he had it in himself to be angry, too.

I relate to both sides of this. That gut-wrenching feeling of not being able to find your own anger at someone who is angry at you. The feeling of knowing that your anger is frustrating and hurting someone else, too. Either way, it feels absolutely terrible.

“You called me,” Dream recounts, even though he can tell George remembers it as vividly as he. “You talked to me.” He lets out a short, frustrated breath. “Then you got mad at me the next morning, and iced me out.”

Doing the same thing that you hated the other person for doing, and taking it out on them afterwards. Yeah.

(dakota. dream. can you pls stop calling me out through george i would really really really appreciate it thank u) /hj /lh 

“Because you let it happen,” George says, but he looks more vulnerable than before.

blame game here we go againnnnn

Dream stares down at him. “So it’s all on my shoulders,” he reiterates flatly. “It’s all my responsibility, now?” 

“Yes,” George spits, his sharpness startling them both. He meets Dream's gaze, unwavering, and recollects himself with a deep breath.

 “Yes. Because you made it your responsibility, when you sent me that text.”

George was ready to throw that blame right back into Dream’s face. When I saw that whole scene in Heat Waves, I realized how much I related to George in that particular situation. I knew it would come back, somehow. George wouldn’t be able to let something as huge as that, something that shifted the entire course of their relationship...slide so easily. Even with Dream’s eventual promise to work on himself. The whole time, I was thinking, “He’s too nice. He’s too patient,” and, “I wouldn’t be that nice. I wouldn’t be that patient. Not on the inside, at least.”

And you didn’t fail me. That final jab, although relatable- It hurt.

Now that the screens are off, the distance is gone, and the barriers are thinner than ever before, George’s flaws are becoming more transparent. We start to see other parts of his character that had only been foreshadowed in your previous work. I had no idea how Helium would unfold at the beginning, but I’m now very sure that you did not disappoint.

Seeing how you’ve evolved as a writer in both more subtle and more noticeable ways has been awesome :) I’m excited for the next chapter.

[amyscascadingtabs]

darling, you should know i’m a helicopter

a healthy dose of hurt/comfort with added baby snuggles, because i truly felt for amy in this episode. it's been a long time since i just wrote something quick but i hope you enjoy! 🥰

oh and if you want a picture this is the pajamas mac is wearing, okay cool

read on ao3

 Amy doesn’t mean for it to be a breakdown.

 She’s not surprised when Mac’s familiar piercing cries wake her up again a mere hour and a half after she’s fed him and put him to sleep for the night. As miraculous as Charles’ methods seemed, she still believes some babies are just fussy, and her son is one of them. It’s the only logical conclusion she’s come to after six, eight, ten, and twelve weeks all passed without any notable improvement in Mac’s ability to sleep longer stretches, and now he’s five months old and defying every single baby book and website that informs her he should be well settled into a sleeping schedule by now. He’s just fussy, or a high need baby, or whatever other term with needlessly negative connotations there is to make Amy feel like she's doing a bad job. It’s who he is and it’s what she’s used to, so she just scoots to the edge of the bed and picks him up from his travel cot in her still hurting arms before he can wake up the rest of the house.

On another night, she might have tried to walk around with him first, play some white noise or bounce on the yoga ball with him, but she’s tired and dejected and scared to wake up anyone else, so she goes for the easy option. The buttons of her pink striped pajama shirt are easily accessible for this exact purpose, and resting Mac’s head in the crook of her right arm, she gently guides him to her chest and exhales in relief as the crying comes to a stop. At least this, she can do, and the idiots who write advice pages about how you shouldn’t get your baby used to falling asleep at the breast have probably never even met a real baby.

 She leans back against the pillows when she’s sure Mac’s found a good latch and she can hear his content grunts and swallows. His hand has found a steady grip on her newly washed hair, probably getting drool in it again, but she can’t be bothered to try and unclench his little iron fist when he’s finally happy. Watching his perfect chubby cheeks as they hollow and fill, stroking the soft baby curls that are getting lighter and more like Jake’s every day, Amy’s overcome with another wave of that crazy all-consuming love that keeps surprising her, and then she’s the one who can’t stop her tears from falling.

 The only thing she ever wants is to keep him safe. In a world of pandemics and injustice, where the news gives her anxiety attacks more days than not and everything she thought she knew keeps changing, at least she can make sure Mac has his every need attended to. It’s been her life while staying home for the past five months, and she likes to think she’s handled it well all things considered, but after Charles’ nip tips and three-hour imprisonment of her child, Amy can’t help but feel like she’s done it all wrong.

 Her son is at his happiest when she can’t bother him. Once again, her high-strungness and failure to just be chill have proved her unfit for motherhood. She’s too anxious, too stressed, too overprotective, and the baby in her arms looking up at her with the warmest, roundest brown eyes she’s ever known is seriously unlucky and he doesn’t even know it.

 She doesn’t know where the negative thoughts are coming from, but sometimes breastfeeding has this effect on her – another sign, the self-hating voice in her head whispers – and it’s been an exhausting day, so she lets the tears come and hopes Jake is too deeply asleep to notice her mini-breakdown. Why is this so hard for her, and why can’t she just relax? How come Mac seems to be the only child she’s heard of whose sleeping habits at home have gotten worse and not better after his first few weeks at daycare, and how come even the most gentle of sleep training methods break her heart when Mac cries like he’s been abandoned?

 She’s wiping her tears with her free hand before wiping Mac’s cheeks with the muslin blanket when Jake begins to stir next to her, and even that makes her feel guilty, because he’s had a long day, too. He rubs his hand against her upper arm as if sensing that something’s off, yawning as he pushes himself up into a half-sitting position.

“Hey,” he mumbles in his softest sleepy voice, a worried crease appearing on his forehead. “Are you okay, Ames?”

“Yeah,” she tries, but her voice breaks, so she shakes her head. Mac is starting to pull away, so she unlatches him and sighs when she realizes that the shirt she’d packed clean already has milk stains on it. She rests him upright with his head on her shoulder instead, patting him on the back and trying to stop the tears that won't stop coming.

“Whatever it is, you can tell me. Is it Charles again? Because I really think he felt bad, but I’m happy to tell him off again if you want me to.”

“It's not Charles.” Amy sighs. “Well, it kind of is, but it's more that... I can't believe the best Mac has ever slept was when I wasn't even there. I try everything and nothing works, and Charles straight-up locks him in a room, and that makes him fall asleep? It feels like more proof I wasn't meant to do this,” she says, and she can see him immediately opening his mouth to protest. “Like even Charles is a more natural mom than I am.”

 Mac makes a hiccuping noise, spitting up a little bit of milk on the muslin blanket Amy put on her shoulder. Jake wipes it away before laying an arm around them, half-hugging them both.

“No offense, but that's the worst lie I’ve heard today, and that's including the stuff Terry said about me.” He strokes Mac’s back through the blue pajamas with little moons and clouds with faces as he begins to whimper again. “You're the best mom to him ever, Ames. You do everything for him. You literally kicked down a door to get to him today. Why do you think someone would be better?”

Amy sighs as she adjusts Mac in her arms, swaying him slightly and being surprised when it actually makes him go quiet. He has his eyes closed, fists up in front of his face, and just the thought that she could be doing something wrong by him makes her heart shatter.

“Because I try too hard,” she whispers, just loud enough for Jake to hear. “When he was locked in by Charles, I couldn't check on him, and it was the best nap he's ever had. All because I worry too much about him. Because I don't know what else to do. I want to keep him safe, but instead I’m somehow not doing enough and doing too much at once.”

She tickles that adorable baby chin with her index finger. Mac grips it, bringing it to his mouth with determination, and it makes both parents laugh. Why he likes this but rejects every single kind of pacifier Buy Buy Baby had to offer, she’ll never understand.

“He knows you love him,” Jake says, as if that was an obvious fact. He likes to claim he can read Mac’s mind about these things, a skill which Amy thinks would have been a lot more useful if it had also worked to figure out what it is their son needs during their worst nights of crying. It's what she needed to hear right now, though, and she leans her head on his shoulder as a silent thank you. “And just because he might be a little introverted sometimes doesn't mean he doesn't love you like crazy, too. I mean, that's what you tell me when I interrupt you when you're reading, right?”

She smiles. “I guess.”

“I know you worry,” he continues. “But just because Mac likes his peace and quiet sometimes doesn’t mean you’re doing a bad job. Maybe we could even let him start sleeping in his nursery at night, you know, just see what happens?”

Just the mention of not having her son within arm’s length at night makes Amy freeze and a million nightmare scenarios flash through her head, and Jake laughs a little as he feels her shoulders tense. “Okay, I can tell that was too big of a step and you’re freaking out, so maybe not. But one day?”

“We’ll talk about it later,” she decides, carefully trying to pull her finger out of her son’s mouth. “Thanks, babe. I just really want to go back to sleep.”

 Mac’s eyes are fluttering, a telltale sign that he’s starting to fight his sleep, stretching his legs and letting out the most adorable of baby-sighs. Jake runs his thumb over his son’s forehead and nose in an attempt to make him relax, and shakes his head as Mac only forces his eyes open again.

“He’s lucky he’s so cute, isn’t he?”

“He’s lucky we love him,” Amy mumbles, trying and failing to stifle a yawn.

“Yeah. I mean, who needs a full night’s sleep anyway, right?” Jake says, and Amy just stares at him with a blank expression.

“I know you’re joking, but I would almost leave him in Charles’ hands for a night again if it meant I got a four-hour stretch, and that’s saying something.”

“Yeah.” Jake grimaces. “I shouldn’t have said that. Now I’m kind of thinking about it too.”

 Thinking that maybe Mac will repeat his magical streak of at least managing to fall asleep on his own, Amy tries to put him down in the cot again, but she’s barely moved before he lets out another unhappy cry. She lifts him upright against her chest again, biting her lip and trying not to feel defeated as she starts the hushing and rocking all over again.

“Hey, I can take him,” Jake says, reaching for him. “You need to sleep so you can stop crazy-spiraling, and I’ve barely held him all day. I’ll walk around with him outside for a while, that might do it.”

 It’s not the typical declarations of love they used to share, but as he puts the muslin blanket on his shoulder before taking Mac and getting out of bed with him, Amy’s confident that she’s never loved her husband more. This, right here, watching him with sleep-tousled curls in just his t-shirt and pajama pants as he adjusts his son and bounces him slightly in his arms while the crying turns into a more gentle fussing, is far hotter than any sex dream about Sanjay Gupta could ever be.

[naruto--imagines]

The Beast [Part 2]

[Part 1]

---

The smoke settled, and above you is a random male, an attractive male, but a strange male indeed. Your arms were still wrapped around him as you calmly asked.

“Who are you?”

“Are you kidding? You just said it.” He barked with a laugh.

“A-akamaru?” You stuttered out, as you pulled your arms away from him.

“Yeah,” he growled at the loss of the contact “at least, that’s what you called me. The name's Kiba though.” He said with a smirk.

“Okay Kiba, what happened to you. And why were you a dog.? And why are you no longer a dog?” The questions rolled off your tongue in quick succession.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, one question at a time,” Kiba said, placing one clawed finger against your lips. He sat up and moved off of you while stretching out his limbs. It was at this point you were able to get a good look at him, at all of him. His hair was jaw length and shaggy, his eyes were dark and sharp, he had red triangles on his face, and his body could be described as lean and fit, with just a bit of fat on him.

“Y-you’re naked.” You obviously pointed out.

“Yeah, didn’t bother you before,” Kiba said with a smirk.

"W-well, now it does!" You shouted as you threw the blanket from your lap to cover him. You got off the couch and moved to the bathroom, a blush hugging your cheeks. You grabbed the robe from the back of the bathroom door and came back out to throw the item at the nude man in your living room. With a pout on his face, Kiba stood up and slid into the robe tying it closed enough that he was covered, but still showing some skin.

"Back to the questions I had, explain." You prompted sitting down on the couch once more.

"Hmm, where to begin," Kiba pondered as he stretched out in a manner similar to what he would do as a dog. He crawled over to you, placed the blanket back across you, and promptly placed himself into your lap, nuzzling his face into your legs and wrapping his arms around your midsection. The scene is very familiar with how the two of you used to relax. But this has a different connotation to it, and you are the farthest thing from relaxed.

"Well, needless to say, I pissed off the wrong person," Kiba mumbled out. "Some, witch I guess, cursed me because of something stupid I said." His voice trailed off, and he tightened his grip on you.

"Before this happened, I wasn't the nicest person in the world. I used to be set off by the smallest things. I was always ready to fight, and it was to the point where I was always looking for a fight. It didn't help that I would say the first thing that came to my mind, some of what I said was real mean too." At his saddened voice you relaxed into his embrace, paying more mind to the tale he was telling you than your own discomfort.

"So one night. I'm in a real sour mood. And some old hag-" He cut himself off, "An older, unpleasant looking lady, asks me a question, I don't even remember what it was, and I go off on her. Spewing every mean name I can muster." He pauses once again, contemplating his next set of words. Wanting to comfort him, you move your hands to his head and run your fingers through his hair (almost like you did when he had fur and two ears). Kiba takes a stuttering breath and continues on.

“The next thing I know, she has a wicked smirk on her face. She mumbles some words and then blows some green dust in my face. When the smoke cleared I was about a foot tall. I ran home on four legs fully whimpering. My sister found me, she was a vet at that time, so she was concerned to find a healthy puppy whining the way I was. Hana brought me home and took care of me. I did everything I could to get them to realize that it was me, but they never did. Eventually, the cops were called, and mom filed a missing person report. Nothing came of it obviously. I was standing right in front of her and she didn’t know it.”

“I stuck around for a while longer, trying and trying to get them to realize what had happened. But it was no use. Eventually, I had to leave though. I wasn’t aging like a normal dog. I was growing at a significantly reduced rate. So I went into hiding. I mainly stuck to wooded areas, I hunted when I needed to eat, found cover when I needed to sleep, and occasionally traveled into towns when I needed to be near other humans. I spent the last 50-years like that.” Kiba’s fingers gripped you harder, his whole body tensing up before his next words.

“My mom died thinking that I was dead in a ditch somewhere.” He grumbled into your lap.

Your heart lurched at the new information. Tears had come to your eyes listening to Kiba’s broken voice. You wrap your arms around him as best as you can and lean against his back. With a shaky voice, Kiba said,

“Thank you for saving me.” And that broke the dam, the two of you sat and silently cried for a while. You both took some calming breaths and you sat back up to look down at him.

“I’m glad that I did too.” You said, giving him a smile.

Early the next day, you quickly ran down to a local clothing store as soon as it opened and got a few outfits for Kiba to wear (might look a little weird if you had a naked man hanging out). You got back and quickly threw the clothes at him.

“Get dressed. We’re going on a trip.” You told him.

“Going where?” He asked as he sat up.

“It’s a surprise. Now get dressed!” You yelled going to the kitchen to make a packed lunch for the two of you.

Once you were both dressed and ready for the day, you quickly drug him from the apartment, locked the door, and headed down to the train station.

Kiba quickly grabbed the food bag from you and placed his hands on your shoulders, turning you to face him.

“Will you please tell me where we are going?” Kiba asked, a firm pout on his face.

“To your hometown. You said that it’s been 50 years since you went back there right? I think it’s time to go back.” You explain to him.

“What!? Why? There is nothing back there for me. My mom is dead and what are the odds that Hana is still there? I wouldn’t stick around after what happened!” Kiba was yelling, drawing the attention of passersby, as he paced the platform. Quickly, you grabbed his hands in yours, they were trembling and his chest was heaving.

“Kiba, look at me.” You said in a soothing tone. “We do not have to do this, but I do think it would be good for you. People need closure, and say we get there and Hana isn’t there, say she moved on, then I think you can too. At the very least we can go and visit your mom’s grave. Or we can go somewhere else. It is up to you.” You explained to him.

Kiba took a shuddering breath and leant his head against yours. His eyes were closed and soon his breathing evened out with each breath. After a few minutes in silent thought, he opened his eyes again and nodded at you.

“Let’s go then.” He firmly said with a look of conviction.

The train showed up and the two of you found a seat next to each other. Kiba laced his fingers with yours and held tight (honestly if you were out of the public eye, you bet he would be curled under your chin similar to how he did in dog form when a firetruck passed by). The farther the train traveled, the tighter his grip got. Finally, you pulled into the station and you had to pull your hand free of his.

“I adore you Kiba, I really do, but you will have to ease up unless you want a trip to the E.R. to be added to our day out.” You told him as you stood up.

“Sorry, I didn’t think I was this nervous.” Kiba replied as he followed you out of the train car.

“It’s okay.” You said, you laced your fingers back with his and started to walk out of the train station. “Does any of this look familiar?” You asked him, as you took in the scenery around you. Kiba sat in silence and looked around for a while.

“Yeah,” He slowly said, “let’s go this way.” Kiba began tugging you down the street. As you two walked down the street Kiba pointed out different places. ‘That used to be the burger place we would hang out at’, ‘I stayed out way too late at park way too often’, ‘My friends family used to own that garage and we would hang out and fix our cars’, so on and so forth.

The sun was high in the sky and late afternoon was approaching when you pulled Kiba to another park and sat down to eat. The two of you sat and ate until the food was gone. Then you just sat.

“How are you feeling?” You asked him.

“Better than I thought I would have.” Kiba replied with a smile. He sat there a while longer before he had a firm look cross his face. Kiba glanced around the park. Quickly, he shoved everything back into the bag, grabbed your hand, and started to drag you along with him down a gravel path. He was jogging at first, but soon picked up pace into a run, you diligently followed behind him.

You two then stumbled across an older building. You stood beside Kiba, both of you panting, and observed the wooden building. ‘Inuzuka Veterinary Clinic’ was scrawled across the front. From the outside, you could see that it is a two-story building. It looked like the bottom was the clinic, and the top may have been a place for someone to live. The sound of a bell “jingling” drew your attention. You watched as a mom and her daughter exited the building, the daughter holding a puppy in her arms.

“Thank you again Seta-san. You’re a lifesaver.” The mom gushed as they turned to leave.

In the doorway then stood a man that looked a lot like Kiba, only older with grey hair and stress lines.

“No worries Yuki, I’m always glad to help. Keep him hydrated, wet food for the next few days and he should be back to normal.” The man said as he waved them off. You and Kiba watch the man flip over the sign to read ‘closed’ and then walk down the sidewalk to the mailbox. As he was checking the mail, two people came walking down the path opposite of you and Kiba, a boy about your age and an older woman.

“Ah, mom! How was your walk?” The older man asked.

“Pleasant as alway Kai.” The older woman said. When he heard her speak, Kiba’s grip tightened on your hand again. “We got some groceries, then we went to that new ice cream parlor that opened up.”

“Excellent,” Kai replied, “We should get you in and get some dinner started then, Kiba what did you grab at the store?” Hearing the name, your Kiba took in a shuddering breath.

“Chicken for tsukune, grandma Hana’s favorite.” The boy replied, holding up the grocery bag. Having seen the scene unfold, Kiba was ready to leave. He moved to turn and stepped on a branch causing a ‘snap’ to ring out across the space.

“Who’s there!” Kai called moving to stand in front of the other members of his family. You squeezed Kiba’s hand back and gave him a questioning look. He let out a shuddering breath and tugged you with him into the light of the setting sun.

“Sorry, ‘bout that, uh, we were just passing through.” Kiba said with a soft smile on his face. When you two fully stepped out into the vision of the other three, there was an audible gasp that rang out.

“Kiba.” The older woman said, she drew the eyes of everyone nearby.

“Yeah grandma?” The boy beside her asked. Hana, shook her head and moved into your space.

“No, Kiba, my baby brother. Is it you?” She asked as she placed two wrinkled hands on the side of your Kiba’s face and gently caressed it. Kiba nodded at her with tears in his eyes. “But how? We thought you had died.” Hana whimpered out, tears streaming down her face too.

“It’s a long story, sis.” Kiba said as he let go of your hand to grab onto his sister’s, “And I don’t even know if you would believe me.”

“Of course we don’t believe you.” Kai said as he gently pulled Hana away from you. “What kind of a sick prank is this? You take advantage of my mother by pretending to be her brother who died? How disgraceful of you.” His voice raised in level as he was berating you two.

“I don’t know dad, he looks just like you.” Kiba said as walked up behind Hana and his father.

“Please, I promise, I can explain everything. Hana, when you were 6-years old you saved 3 wolf puppies from these woods. You raised them with mom’s help, and they followed you everywhere. Even to school. You called them the ‘three Haimaru brothers’, and you loved each one of them. Then, when you were in your 20’s, one of them got sick. They were all so old, it was only a matter of time. But, after the first one died, the other two quickly followed. A phenomenon observed in animals with close relations. I was 16, and I sat with you after we buried them. You were so upset, and all I could do was sit beside you and hold your hand while you cried.” Kiba quickly explained.

A moment of silence hovered through the air.

“Kiba!” Hana exclaimed moving forward once more to wrap her brother in her arms. “It is you.” She sobbed.

Kiba wrapped his arms around her and hugged her tightly.

“I’m sorry I was gone for so long.” He whispered into the top of her head.

“I just, how? How are you here?” Hana shakely asked.

“It’s gonna sound crazy Hana, but I was cursed.” Kiba barely got out

“Okay, that is enough, please let go of my mother, we are not listening to this anymore.” Kai said.

“Well he’s not wrong.” A new voice said. You all turned and saw a beautiful woman appear from the woods. From the corner of your eye you saw Kiba’s skin turn a pale color, and watched as he tightened his grip on Hana. “Kiba, good to see that you have finally matured.” The woman said.

“Who are you.” The other Kiba asked from beside his father. “And where did you come from.”

“So many questions,” The woman drawled, “but if you would actually like to know. My name is not important, and where I come from is also not noteworthy. However, I will make you privy to something else.” She continued with a smirk, all while walking toward your group, “I take spoiled, little boy and girls, and I teach them important lessons. Kiba here, was one of my longest running cursed friends.” One moment she was standing in front of you all, and the next she was behind you. She clasped your shoulders in her hands and pulled you close to her.

“And you my dearest. You managed to see through that mangy and aggressive demeanor. I guess a dog is too good of a creature. Not enough people overlook them.” She purred into your ear.

“Get away from us!” Kiba yelled, pressing Hana behind him and taking a step toward you.

“Ah, ah, ah, Kiba. Not so fast.” The woman warped her arm around your neck and pulled you closer to her. “You remember what happened last time you hurt my feelings. We wouldn’t want something to happen to your friend now would we?”

“Please, I am begging you, don’t hurt them. I know what I did was wrong, and unfair to you. I learned my lesson. Please let them go. Let us all go, you don’t need to do this.” Kiba pleaded.

“Your begging is music to my ears.” The woman said with a smile. “Alright, you’re forgiven this time.” The woman laughed out and pushed you forward into Kiba’s arms. As soon as you were within reach, Kiba constricted his arms around you and secured you to him. “But remember what is at stake next time Kiba, you wouldn’t want to be stuck as a pup again.” The witch said before disappearing in a cloud of grey smoke.

The smoke settled, and the five of you were left looking at each other.

“What, just, happened?” Kai asked.

“I think we just got confirmation that he is who he says he is.” Young Kiba replied to his equally shell shocked father.

“Are you okay?” Kiba asked you, while brushing the hair out of your face. You gave him a firm nod and a reassuring smile.

“Now that that is over, let’s all go inside and have some tea. While those boys make dinner.” Hana said as she ushered everyone back to the house. Kai and Young Kiba got started on dinner while you, Kiba, and Hana drank some tea and talked about Kiba’s experiences.

“For almost a year now we’ve been living together, and just yesterday the curse was finally lifted.” Kiba finished the story and placed his hand on top of yours. Hana smiled at the two of you and grabbed your free hand in hers.

“Thank you for saving my brother.” She said with a smile on her face. “I was 26 when he disappeared. Our mom passed away soon after Kai was born. She always pretended to be fine, but she picked up smoking, and then when they declared Kiba as a cold case, she sorta gave up. Having Kai made things easier on her, but he wasn’t her son.” Hana sadly explained. “The Kai had my grandson, and decided to name him in your honor. And does the name fit. He reminds me of you, only a bit more tempered” She said with a smile and an easy laugh.

“Well sis, I am glad to see that you are doing well. And that you were able to find peace while I was gone.” Kiba said in response.

“I am at more peace now that you are back.” Hana reaffirmed. The three of you talked some more (Hana was ecstatic to learn about your interest in veterinary science) before dinner was served.

You all ate and talked some more before you called it a night. You gave Hana your phone number and told them to call whenever. Then you and Kiba made your way back to the train and headed home.

Once back at your apartment, Kiba grabbed your hands and moved to the couch. He sat down and pulled you into a hug.

“Thank you for supporting me today.” He whispered into your hair. You wrapped your arms around him and gripped him tightly.

“I will always be here for you.” You told him.

That night, the two of you fell asleep on the couch still wrapped in one another’s arms. Kiba had his family back, and you two were ready to pursue the relationship that was forming between you.

______________________

Bonus:

In the Springtime, you graduated from veterinary school, and you and Kiba made the decision to move closer to his family. You worked for the Inuzuka clinic as the on the go vet. You would drive out to those that couldn’t easily make it to you, or when larger animals were involved. Kai and Hana were happy to have you to help with this.

Kiba Seta was off to school in the Fall, and your Kiba took over the office work that his Great Nephew had been doing. Most people were confused by the new face with the same name, but quickly got over it. Kiba’s cover was a distant relative to Hana, here to help out with the clinic while her grandson was away. Given that he no longer had any identifying paperwork now, this was really the only job he could do.

Presently, your anniversary with Kiba was tomorrow night, and you still didn’t have a great gift for him. At the moment, you were on call to one of the smaller dairy farms in the area. Many of the cows were pregnant for the first time, and their farmer wanted one final check up on them before it was time for the calves to be born. You quickly made your way through the six cows he had and gave him the all clear.

“Give me a call when they go into labor and I will be out to help.” You explained as you packed up your gear.

“Thanks for all your help,” The farmer said, “I hear you’re off the next couple of days to celebrate with that boy of yours.” You laughed at his description of Kiba.

“Yeah, nothing major, just celebrating our anniversary.” You told him.

“You got a gift picked out?”

“Ah, not really. Nothing quite seemed right to get ya’know?” You explained. The farmer sat in thought for a moment before he beckoned you to the horse stables. You followed him and once inside he led you to the last stable where his dog Ume usually slept. Laying in the hay of the stable was Ume and a smaller pup right next to her.

“If you want him, you can take him. He was the runt of the litter and no one else wanted the poor pup. All his siblings were adopted, and Ume doesn’t show much interest in him either.” The farmer solemnly explained to you.

You knelt down in the hay, drawing the attention of Ume and the pup. At seeing a new human, the pup joyfully trotted over and began sniffing and licking at you. Happy with meeting you, the pup began to bounce, bark, and wag his tail. You laughed at the antics of the pup before looking back up at the farmer.

“Are you sure it’s okay to take him?” The farmer nodded in response.

“You and your family are good people, I know he will be in good hands.” The farmer told you with a smile. So you scoop up the pup and take him with you to your car. Placing him in one of the spare carriers, you strap him in, wave goodbye to the farmer, and make the drive home.

On your way back to your’s and Kiba’s home, you stop by a pet shop and grab what you need for the pup; food, bowls, a collar, toys, and a name tag. With a snicker, you type the name into the machine, once the tag is engraved you attach it to the collar and then place the collar on the pup.

You beat Kiba home, and quickly stash all of the new things you just purchased. With the pup in your arms, you start working on dinner while you wait for your boyfriend to get home.

You don’t wait long.

The front door opens and you hear an “I’m Home!” as Kiba walks in. You set the pup down on the ground and watch as it tears out of the kitchen and rounds the corner to where your boyfriend would be.

“Well hello little one, where did you come from?” You laugh at Kiba’s question and also exit the kitchen. You observe your boyfriend holding the white pup with adoring eyes.

“He’s yours now, happy anniversary love.” You tell him with a smile. Kiba looks at you and quickly grins at the news.

“Really!” He asks, hugging the pup. “I guess you need a name then huh little guy.”

“He may already have one.” You teasingly say, “check out the collar.” You point out. Kiba quickly looks at the fabric loops around the pup’s neck, then looks at you, unimpressed.

“Akamaru, seriously?” Kiba asks deadpanned.

“Well, I think it’s cute, it reminds me of when we first met. What better name could he have.” You tell him with a lugh. Kiba continues to pout at you and you can only laugh. You walk up to his side and wrap your arms around him.

“I guess it can stay. Welcome home Akamaru.” Kiba tells the pup who happily barks in response. You smile at your two boys, and lean up to press a kiss to Kiba’s face.

“Welcome home Akamaru.”

[lunarblazes]

i made a desertduo playlist and then decided to be a nerd and write explanations for all the songs! like a nerd!

playlist link: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5ZGylutQpyTbgX7MY7Lrzz?si=t8_kBwBHSYG5kxTvZoIrTQ&dl_branch=1

QUICK DISCLAIMER: i am aware that a lot of these songs may have or imply romantic connotation! i would really really like it if these were not read as though those romantic connotations carry over to scar and grian. even if we’re just talking about the third life characters, i would prefer not to ship them or imply romance between them on this post. thank you so much and keep reading if you’d like to see the playlist analysis!

and now that that’s out of the way, PLAYLIST TIME!

•

passerine- the oh hellos

“you were the song that i’d always sing/you were the light that the fire would bring/but i can’t shake this feeling that i/was only pushing the spear into your side again”

this song really just... firstly, it’s one of my favorite songs, and the line i chose there pushes home the sort of terrified devotion i think the desert has. plus there’s a fun line about the cold wind blowing in from the north in the ending bits that i think very much fits their conflict with the red army, and a lot of legally obligated flight imagery that i need to have in every possible song because i’m a fuckin nerd.

•

no children- the mountain goats

“i hope that our few remaining friends/give up on trying to save us/i hope we come up with a failsafe plot to piss off the dumb few that forgave us”

i will admit that no children isn’t a perfect fit, but the general vibe of sort of defiant pessimism and betrayal fits very well with them! it’s very triumphant in its death, and i think that is very desertcore, because what’s more triumphantly dead than being the last duo left alive?

•

skulls- bastille

“when all of our friends are dead and just a memory/it’s always been just you and me/for all to see”

okay like this entire song is SO MUCH DESERT VIBES? LIKE SO MUCH. if i were to ever make an animatic for them i’d do it with this song. “a match is our only light, it’s day of the dead i’m indiana jones, yeah,” “i hope you can make me laugh six feet under when we’re bored of each other,” “i don’t want to rest in peace, i’d rather be the ghost that annoys you,” IT JUST KEEPS GOING. i think this song would work well with any third life duo, honestly, but these two in PARTICULAR just because of how it ended with them literally ‘buried’ next to each other, and again, the chaotic death vibes.

•

freaking out- mystery skulls

“i just keep out of my tongue/til all you want is done/and you just wanna leave me, oh yeah”

this song is a very third life grian song to me in particular! it could be my bias because of my little headcanon of grian burning on his red life, but seriously, this song is very reminiscent of the back and forth of loyalty that grian has with scar. the above line is sort of representative of the betrayal on red, and of course grian’s life debt.

•

night running- shin sakiura

(this song is in japanese! these lyrics are the rough english translation i found on google.) “someday we will stand at this place once again/for sure we will stand up again and again/we will watch it will the end/i want you to live freely”

this song is actually the ending theme for the anime bna, which i adore, and i just added it on a whim before looking at the translated lyrics. but um. holy hell the lyrics hurt me because they’re about running in search of someone, running for no reason, looking for something, and it just really hit, because the desert never really had a goal! they didn’t expect to survive, they were trying to survive, but what was their longterm goals? nothing. so that sort of endless search felt fitting for this. plus the song is a parallel for the two estranged best friends of the show so! perfect.

•

summer nights- siames

“it’s summertime/singing al green in your car/heading to a party/and the night air feels alive”

okay again, i will admit this song is mainly on here because i absolutely love it, but i also do think it fits well. it’s also about healing/estranged friendships, with a very distinct feeling of nostalgia for a happier time. maybe for a time when this was all a game, when there was no blood or betrayals on their hands. little canon divergent, but it’s fun for me, so into the playlist it goes!

allies or enemies- the crane wives

“are we allies or enemies/this will be the death of me, this will be the death of me/all’s fair in love and war but i can’t fight with you anymore”

. i just. points to that lyric. it literally led to both of their deaths. are they allies or enemies? it also fits with scar still wanting grian to be his friend even after he’s no longer indebted with the line “what happens now? do we have another go, do we bow out?” another very good animatic song that i’ve considered heavily. i listen to this playlist a lot

•

burn him down- kitsch club

“you must destroy, oh you must destroy, beyond all recognition/you gotta burn him down, you gotta burn him down, beyond all recognition”

this song just has a lot of fire and arson and high energy vibes. my little war criminals look at them go

•

rose- the oh hellos

“what's true is like a sickle/it'll cut you to the middle/your rose is without a thorn/but no, my mouth don't taste of metal/from the pot here to the kettle/i think we got a lot we gotta learn”

this one is like the exact opposite vibe of burn him down. the oh hellos are so poetic and this song just... feels like the healing potions after a battle. many of the metaphors here fit, i think

•

lone digger- caravan palace

“hey, brother, what you thinking/that good ol' sound is ringing/they don't know what they're missing/(they call it lonely diggin')”

okay this song is straight up just a dance song. i added it because i like it and also for some reason it feels ominous to me? i’ve got no idea why, it’s seriously just a club song, but it’s a banger and it’s in this playlist because i said so

•

feed the machine- poor man’s poison (suggested by my friend argonaughtkeene!)

“somethin’s goin” on, just look around/fear is on the rise, and there’s blood all over the ground/let’s all just blindfold the poor, we all know what’s in store/ we got ‘em now, just break ‘em down a little bit more”

this song is a VIBE for both desertduo members. there’s parts for both of them. it’s ruthless, gritty, very maniacal, perfect. listen to it and you’ll immediately understand why i added it.

•

sweet tooth- scott helman

“i hold hands with cosmic entities/i’ll take this two-ride if i please/i got this sweet tooth baby, yeah i got this sweet tooth baby/i exploit my opportunities/some broken hearts, some cavities”

sweet tooth is super upbeat and bright with these strangely dark lyrics? like i’m pretty sure it’s about addiction. in any case, i thought the “i hold hands with cosmic entities” very funnily fitting for both of the desert boys. it’s a banger!

•

necromancin’ dancin’- bear ghost

“when i’m necromancin’, everyone’s dancin’/nobody can stop me, i dare you to try/the dead are infused with insatiable groove and they’re coming for you, there’s nowhere to hide”

necromancin’ dancin’ just. bastard vibes. there’s not much more to say it’s just huge villain song vibes. i adore it.

•

crazy = genius- panic! at the disco

“if crazy equals genius/then i’m a fucking arsonist/i’m a rocket scientist/if crazy equals genius/you can set yourself on fire/but you’re never gonna burn, burn, burn”

i. yeah. y. yeah. more bastard vibes. also shoutout to an artist i saw (i think it was strifesolution?) who made a desertduo piece to this song because i have not stopped thinking about it ever

•

sweet bod- lemon demon

“i’m diggin’ up your coffin/and pouring out the contents/your sexy, sweet solution/is ripe for distribution”

you know how i said freaking out was a grian song? this one is a scar song. it’s my favorite lemon demon song and also it has the total macabre capitalism vibe that third life scar NAILED. more bastard vibes good for him <3

•

drunk- the living tombstone

“feel so much better than usual/i feel indisputable, oh/but now i’m feeling so beautiful/don’t wake me up from this spell i’m under, if i’m still breathing/i know that i will be ugly when i feel like myself again, oh/but right now i’m feelin’ so beautiful”

the descent of this song, starting off with a polite gathering and ending with a gasping drunk in the parking lot gazing at the stars that he can barely see? yes. yeah. mhm. i used a line from this song for a fic, actually, it fit so well.

•

oh no!- marina

“one track mind, one track heart/if i fail, i’ll fall apart/maybe it is all a test/cos i feel like i’m the worst so i always act like i’m the best”

bubbly pop track about false confidence, the ruthlessness of the pop industry, and the influence of the media? you know why this is here. it vibes. it rocks.

•

do it all the time- i don’t know how but they found me

“we’re taking over the world/a little victimless crime/and when i’m taking your innocence/i’ll be corrupting your mind/no need to cry i’m only doing everything i want to do because i do it all the time”

EVEN MORE BASTARD VIBES! SOMEHOW THERE IS MORE! this playlist is half villain songs and half heart-wrenching ballads and that’s the real desert experience i think.

•

the phoenix- fall out boy

“i’m gonna change you/like a remix/then i’ll raise you/like the phoenix”

BATTLE SONG BATTLE SONG! i’ll be honest i partially chose this song because i am a huge sucker for phoenix grian imagery in particular, but it’s also just a very good war song for them. villain song no 18372948 except this one originally had a hero vibe and now it’s changed specifically for them?? wild. their power

•

the other side- the greatest showman

“right here, right now/i’ll put the offer out/i don’t wanna chase you down, i know you see it/you run with me/and i can cut you free/out of the treachery/and all you keep in”

scar and grian’s desert monopoly conversation went exactly like this canonically because i said so fuck you <3

•

icicles- the scary jokes (suggested by my friend demizorua!)

“icicles don’t soften when they die/so why should i, why should i?/oh, icicles don’t soften when they die/they sharpen into sabers and they stab you in the eye”

this song actually has specific parts for both grian and scar! my cool epic friend mx demizorua pointed both of them out to me and i adored it so much. it’s a very spiteful song, just like the desert boys. also it feels vaguely murderous. perfect

•

problems- mother mother (suggested by my friend demizorua!)

“i’m a loser, a disgrace/you’re a beauty, a luminary, in my face”

literally this entire song fits them. particularly their relationship with the flower husbands, to me, honestly— the whole “when we meet at the pearly gates/you’ll get the green light/and i’ll get the boot in the face” reminds me a lot of them hdksjdks

•

tongues and teeth- the crane wives

“i know that you mean so well/but i am not a vessel for your good intent/i will only break your pretty things/i will only wring you dry of everything”

h. yeah. this song is literally gaslight gatekeep girlboss and i attribute it to the desert for that reason alone. songs to commit murder to!

•

you’re nobody til somebody wants you dead- saint motel

“you’re nobody til somebody wants you dead/and the list, it grows, and grows, and grows/it grows, and grows, and grows/and grows, and grows, and grows/until it’s everyone you’ve ever known”

this one is very self-explanatory. enemies pogchamp

•

curses- the crane wives

“there’s a fire in my brain and i’m burning, love/oh my, oh my/keep running to the sink, but the well is dry/oh my, oh my/every word i say is kindling/but the smoke clears when you’re around”

okay again! this one has two very specific parts for both of them. grian’s the first verse, which is above, and scar’s the second verse!! i really do like my fire imagery for these two don’t i? well, i blame them for having a fuck ton of tnt on them at all times and literally burning their enemy’s banners as a final act of defiance.

[demonslayedher]

I'm glad you reactivated the questions, here are some flowers for you: 💐 Seriously speaking I'm sorry that because of a question I asked you a few weeks ago you watched a series of videos of psychopaths 🥲It made me laugh at first but then I felt guilty 💔 it's all Muzan's fault for leaving us all with curiosity (imagine his parents' reaction once they realized there was something wrong with him even as a human)

Yay, flowers (which I shall kill with my black thumb)! And no, no, it’s fine, I had hoped it came off funny! I like listening to stuff like that while I draw anyway because I’m a nerd anyway and I found it very interesting.

Speaking of being a nerd, you have innocuously unlocked the following essay about Heian period nobility and wisteria flowers: There is nothing to state so in canon, but I find it highly reasonable to say Muzan might had been of the very powerful Fujiwara clan. Step inside my office, Anon.

Okay. So. The Heian period, simply put, was a time of cultural flourishing and beautiful pastimes, the origins of a lot of Japanese style aesthetics, and a romantic courtly like of romancing everybody else in the court. This is assuming, of course, that you were at the very, very, very, very top of society. Otherwise, the vast majority of people were poor and sick and starving and ew, in young Muzan’s world, we do not wish to associate with that. In the Heian court, Kyoto basically is the whole cultural world. Even though there were other cities that could rival Kyoto, the emperor was there, so it was essentially the cultural center of the country. The nobles who lived there got money from owning land in far-flung provinces, but actually having to live in those provinces? What a drag! Having to live away from Kyoto for work, even if it wasn’t an official banishment, often felt like a punishment to the nobles and their families who were used to the social scene at court. And, like affluent courts around the world throughout history, understanding all the intricacies of style and “Heian Rumors” was key to having social clout, and popularity was power. And yeah, nobles would be vicious to each other. While clan dynamics and history are complex and not something I’m getting into here (I don’t consider myself well-versed in it enough), the Fujiwara clan is a BIG DEAL.  Basically, in Heian times, children were typically raised in their mother’s home, thereby heavily influenced by their mother’s clan, so besides a young man’s parents, his in-laws also would had been hugely influential in his life, as they will have a long-felt influence on his progeny. The Emperors typically married Fujiwara daughters. This, in addition to other positions of influence of the Fujiwara clan members usually held with influence over the Emperor, means that politically, there was no messing with them. Now, just because I say Muzan might had been a Fujiwara clan member, I don’t necessarily mean a member of the main branch of the family. Often, due to inheritance management, different branches of various noble clans might be given different surnames. The Fujiwara clan does have different branches, some of which did go one to have close ties with the imperial family even after the fall of their power at the end of the Heian period and all the way through the Taisho, and some branches carry some impressive family legacies but otherwise live like normal or high-class common folk in modern-day. (I know one such Ojousama from a renamed Fujiwara branch; she’s a sweetheart and never brings it up herself but every time I hear other people say things about her family, I’m like, dang.) We can venture from Muzan’s likely expensive medical treatment, multiple marriages (meaning other clans sought to be connected with his family even by marrying their daughters to a sick man), and even preparation for cremation as a baby that he was of a very, very high status. 

Being the sick son of a prominent family may have warped his personality in multiple ways: first, he was probably already used to a culture of popularity equated political power. We see in Muzan’s dealings with humans in the Taisho period that he can be exceedingly charming to get what he wants (a psychopath trait, haha), so he was probably pretty aware of the complex ways of socialites in the court. But, even being aware of that, it probably frustrated him to no end that he was too sick to take part in the social pastimes where he’d gain clout. It’s also possible that he was a bit of a bargain husband for his wives’ families who were seeking to a make ties with his family, as they must not had been politically useful enough to be married off to other powerful matches. This may be some of why he was so ruthless to them, for he never saw them as useful to him in the first place. This probably got a bit worse once he became a demon. Now to be lewd, but he probably got more vigorous in his pursuit of more powerful lovers, and knew how to slay the women’s hearts as he liked (you know, popular Heian pastime, everybody had lots of lovers, it was the norm, though political marriages and legitimate children were still important). That new sense of power probably went to his head. But, ultimately, he must had been limited in clout since he couldn’t take part in any daytime activities, thereby limiting his access to more powerful spheres of influence. His reputation from having grown up sickly must had followed him too. It’s anyone’s guess how much affection his parents had for him and how happy they were about his health at first, and if and when they might had noticed his changes. He was a full-fledged adult by the time he turned into a demon, so who knows how closely they even associated with him. They likely had healthier children who they devoted more care and attention to, and invested more family resources in while assuming Muzan would probably die young.

Who knows what the final straw was in Muzan leaving court? Was it frustration at not being able to walk in daylight that made him flee to the Kanto area in pursuit of the blue spider lily (from near where the doctor lived) long before Kanto became politically affluent? Or was it the rumors at court about how he didn’t age, and that he was eating people?

Of note, a lot of the early legends of demons in Japanese culture take place in the Heian period.

In his book “Japanese History of Demon Slayers,” retired Shizuoka University professor Tetsuo Owada capitalized on the success of Kimetsu no Yaiba to dive into a lot of ties between the series and what it may pay homage to throughout Japanese history and culture. While this was published last September and a handful of his theories have been disproven by the second fanbook published last February, and while I think a lot of his theories are stretching a little too far to make strong connections, it’s still deeply, deeply interesting stuff. He goes into some specific comparisons of demons, like Minamoto-no-Raiko and his posse of four big bad warriors taking on the Tsuchigumo (giant spider demon) terrorizing the mountains north of Kyoto harkening to the case of Rui’s family (and, ding ding ding, this was the primary focus of the official Kabuki/Kimetsu crossover last November), as well as takes little questions left in canon and dives into them a bit deeper. One such question is, why were wisteria lethal to demons? According to Prof. Owada’s research, there is no historical basis for this. Some of the talk online is that: 1. Wisteria are in fact poisonous, and consuming too much of them would cause vomiting and diarrhea (though I’ve also seen people make jam out of them because of the fragrance, so, like???) 2. Beans are thrown around at Setsubun to ward off demons (like so, Feat. Muzan and Kimetsu Beans), and wisteria are of the bean family 3. Wisteria like sunlight, so perhaps like Nichirin, they soak up some of the sun’s properties that are lethal to demons 4. In the language of flowers (Hanakotoba), wisteria symbolize kindness, welcomeness, refusing to leave someone’s side, being drunk with love, being straightforward and truthful, not losing the humanity in one’s heart, thereby containing a lot of meaning contrary to the conduct of demons Interesting, but some of its kind of a stretch. While still finding it a stretch to apply it to wisteria being poisonous to demons, Prof. Owada goes on to say that since ancient times, while the wisteria has some negative connotations of how it was sometimes written with characters meaning “doesn’t heal” (不治) and growing downward with smaller and smaller flowers like symbolize the slow downfall of a family line, it conversely also carries positive connotations of longevity and flourishing family due to the fact that its vines grow upward.

Now, you might picked up at some point that the Japanese word for wisteria is “fuji.” Not to be confused with Mt. Fuji (that’s written differently), it IS the same fuji as in “Fujiwara”: 藤.

Prof. Owada goes on to explore the association with the use of Wisteria crests in Kimetsu no Yaiba, especially on the houses of supporters of the Demon Slayer Corp. His recurring thesis is that the pandemic is partly responsible for Kimetsu no Yaiba’s popularity since demon legends have long since had origins in epidemics, and he supposes the Wisteria crest has a protective effect on the houses, similar to a talisman used in a lot of real life rituals for warding off illness and then often displays in or on the entries of houses to protect the family every year (I have one such item gifted to me, it stays by my doorway, along with a couple sticks of charcoal (but the culture of charcoal is a post for some other day)). The talisman is in reference to a god of Hindu/Chinese origins being treated with hospitality by the So clan, so although other families perished in disaster/disease, he promised to always protect the So clan descendants, so the talisman says “Descendants of the So Clan” so that any household may try to claim that divine protection. The gratitude-exchange of hospitality and protection and sure sounds familiar! Prof. Owada isn’t done yet. While the crest design used in Kimetsu no Yaiba isn’t an actual family crest in in real life, there are lots and lots and lots of family crests that use a wisteria design and have the character for “wisteria” in the name. Any time you hear “—tou”, like Satou, Saitou, or even Gotou, you can typically assume it’s 藤. It’s very common nowadays, but the first family to be granted the use of this name was the Fujiwara clan, when one of the pre-Heian and very powerful emperors granted their clan head this surname, which was a major honor, and it marked the start of the Fujiwara clan’s political dominance (there was already influence leading up to this, but meh, we like clear-cut stuff to simply centuries of history, don’t we?). Furthermore, although we often think of the Fujiwara clan for their influence at court, and we might think of the Minamoto clan for warrior heroes who fought demons, Prof. Owada concludes his argument of wisteria’s protective influence by pointed out a long list of Heian period Fujiwara warriors who also were the heroes of demon slaying legends, stating that their name has also long been tied with demon slayer culture. SO!!! Let me go on with my theory here. Muzan is from the same family line as Ubuyashiki. At some point (I assume after Muzan is long gone from Kyoto), the family is told while their children keep dying, and they accept their mission to bring an end to Kibutsuji Muzan and clear this curse on their family line. My thought is that their ancestor was a full blood sibling of Muzan, one whom was more invested in than sickly Muzan. While perhaps already an off-shoot of the Fujiwara Clan and thereby not entitled to the same sorts of inheritance, they probably maintained close ties with them. But, as it was already not direct by that time, the other Fujiwara clan branches were not affected by this curse. To further spare the clan the effects of this curse, this was probably when that sickly branch took the name Ubuyashiki. (And yes, I have things to say about this name and its possible mythological origins which I find a highly, highly interesting connection. Prof. Owada supposes it is tied with Izumo Taisha Grand Shrine and that is why there are nine pillars, but as much as I love Izumo Taisha and its giant pillars I base my argument in separate Shinto (but also Izumo!) mythology and accept that there are not always supposed to be nine Pillars specifically and Gotouge simply chose that number based on the number of strokes in the kanji for ‘Hashira’ (柱) BUT I DIGRESS). So, the Ubuyashiki Clan is it’s own thing, but is sort of like a cousin to the other Fujiwara branches and thereby continues to enjoy Fujiwara support throughout the Heian period, like some of the Fujiwara warriors going out there and slaying some of Muzan’s early demon experiments, and using their influence to bring in other warriors to the demon slaying cause (pet

theory: Genpei War warrior Kumagai Naozane was a member of the proto-Corp and using Kasugai-garasu was in practice since at least late Heian period). While the Ubuyashiki Clan probably already their own inherited land (and funds that came from it), throughout their history, their cousin clans might also have provided financial support to the Ubuyashiki Clan. But, they probably distanced themselves from the clan due to the curse and not wanting to be tainted. When you bring back in the wisteria associations this puts the contrary associations with a flourishing and dying family line in a new light. Furthermore, the “not healing” way of writing “fuji” also means a lot more in the context of Muzan’s, and later the Ubuyashiki clan’s illness.

[lokilickedme]

Hulu and Do You

A Hammer Of The Gods Jake & Tate Shortfic, Part One

Part One - The Worst Kind of Man Rated M for language and adult themes - no sex yet (and I stress yet) 1703 words Takes place a year after the events of Hammer of The Gods

I’m posting this here for now because I’m not in the mood to accidentally start another longfic and AO3 tends to do that to me.  This will be two parts with the second coming later.  Written under the duress of a headache and not edited or proofread, so...whatever’s down there is what ya get.

I’ll reblog later tonight with my tag list attached.  Slide under the cut and lets go :)

“Geezus fuck kid, take that to your mom.”

Tate flinched, that same old kneejerk reaction to a raised male voice that she’d always had, a holdover from another time, another place, and most definitely another man.  But the man in the next room hadn’t really raised his voice, had he?  No, it was just that she was so damn used to it happening that the reflex had become too deeply ingrained to not be automatic.  It made her feel ashamed of herself for not being over it, just a tiny bit.

Jake didn’t raise his voice.  Not at her, not at her kids, not ever.  She’d never really actually heard him raise it, not in anger, not even when he was threatening a creatively bloody demise toward her long gone ex the day he’d popped his jaw damn well near clean off his face.

Jake wasn’t a yeller.

But he was definitely a curser, and her son had committed the unforgivable by blasting into the room he was working in to offer up an empty GoGurt tube in trade for a new one.

It wasn’t unforgivable in this house though, and it wasn’t unforgivable with this man.

Only The Ex.  Once upon a time.

Jake didn’t mind the kids coming into his study room; he wasn’t insanely nuts about them being around him, but he had no particular dislike of it either, other than when one or the other of them handed him something sticky.

Like the youngest just had.

She couldn’t blame him, to be honest.  GoGurt tubes in the hands of a four year old weren’t something she enjoyed dealing with herself, and Jake - well, Jake wasn’t the daddy type.  But he was a good man, albeit a filthy-mouthed one, and the words hadn’t even been the slightest bit irritated sounding.  Just more of an Ew, hell no.

So why the flinch?

She’d been trying to sort that in her head for the past year, and the only conclusion she’d reached was the uncertain possibility that she was simply afraid that one day Jake would become like The Ex.  Angry, irritated, controlling, condescending.  Disapproving.  Abusive.  She had nothing to base it on other than the fact that it had happened once and her luck, though vastly improved since the night she’d grabbed the kids and walked out with nothing but Jake’s tuition money in her pocket, couldn’t possibly hold.

Or could it?

Perhaps Pete had been right when he’d summed his friend up in a single sentence - He might look like he’d snap your neck for a half smoked cig but he’d just as soon pay you a nickel for it.  It hadn’t made sense at the time, but a year of dating the man had put a bit of clarity on it for her.  Jake was quick to anger in attitude only.  For the most part he was levelheaded, quiet, capable.  He had a low tolerance for idiocy and a deep appreciation for common sense, and what he put into the world by way of surliness he made up for in an intense intelligence and observant nature that dictated he simply deal with problems himself instead of waiting for anyone else to solve them.  And now, after all this time, she knew something not many other people knew.

The angry attitude wasn’t real.

Jake Harper was a fraud.

He didn’t hate the world...he was just uncomfortable in it.  Whether it was shyness or impatience or what his sisters referred to as “a near fatal case of attention deficit coupled with just too damn smart for this world”, she’d probably never figure out.

Not that it mattered.  She’d long since sorted how to work around it and keep that furrow-browed scowl from being used on her.

Jake was easily distractable...and he didn’t like to watch TV.

At all.

And that was where Tate’s secret weapon came into play.

He’d been studying a lot lately.  Way too much, but he had finals coming up.  She shouldn’t even be here, not really, not while he was working on such a time crunch with such a massive class load, but they hadn’t seen each other in a week aside from a quick lunch on Tuesday and a late night Facetime sexup the following evening.  It hadn’t been difficult talking him into letting her come over.

Or talking Pete into picking up the kids and taking them to the park so she and Jake could be alone for a couple of hours.  But he was running late and the kids were making a lot of noise, and now there was a drippy GoGurt tube incoming.

“Pete, come on.”

“Your wish is my command, Tatertot.”

“Geezus!!”

Her face went a bit warm, hearing that crude word pop out of her own mouth.  She’d been around Jake too much, he was rubbing off on her.

Rubbing off on her.

The alternate connotations of that phrase added more heat to her cheeks but thankfully Pete didn’t notice.  He was too busy grabbing her son up and tossing him haphazardly into the air, a horrifying habit she’d gotten used to.

“Sorry, runnin’ late.  Little girl, come on lets go!”  One huge paw came up to gingerly remove her son’s tiny fist from where it was twisted in his long unruly hair.  “Ew.  Is that GoGurt?  Better be blueberry, the cotton candy looks shit on me.”

Good old Pete.  If Jake hadn’t been the one to break the lock on her bedroom window - euphemism or no - things might have been a little different at this juncture of her life.  But Pete was a better friend than Jake would have been if the roles were shifted, and she was grateful for the big brash Viking’s helpful companionship.

Especially now.

“Take some frozen peas for the ducks.”

And then they were gone, and she was left standing in the doorway to Jake’s study room, looking at his broad back and swooning just a little bit over the contrast between his long dark hair and the light blue of his tee shirt as he hunched forward over his desk, deep in concentration that she knew didn’t come easy for him.

“You want to take a break?  Kids are gone, we could watch some TV.”

She knew he didn’t like TV, he didn’t have either the ability or the desire to put that much focus into something recreational after devoting so much effort into keeping his head on his studies.  He turned his head just slightly to the side, not looking at her, but acknowledging her presence.  “That show you like, they put the final season up.”

“Yeah?  Which one?”

He leaned back in his chair, stretching his back.  “That whack one about the preacher and the vampire.”

“You’re kidding?!  Want to start it?  I can call us in a pizza.”

He turned his chair to the left, coming around slowly to face her.  There was something dark and slightly wicked in the twist of his lips that shot a shiver through her.  “Do that.  I’m gonna finish this chapter and then I’m gonna Hulu and do you.”

“Ooh...and here I thought the whole Netflix and chill trend was going to just pass us by.  I mean...”  She took a step back, exiting the doorway, letting her hand stray purposefully toward the top button of her shirt.  “You’re always so busy with school and you have that personal vendetta against Netflix and all - “

“They sold Doctor Who to Amazon.  Fuck ‘em.”

“Well yeah, can’t disagree with you there.”

His eyes passed over her briefly, lingering for just a moment on her hand where her fingers toyed with the button.  It was enough.  Jake didn’t ogle, though there were times she wished he would as some sort of a courtesy warning shot before he made his intentions known.  There wasn’t a lot of preamble with him.  Straightforward and to the point, always.

Good old Viletongue.

She had no complaints.  Because she always knew where she stood with Jake.

But today...today she wasn’t planning on standing.

                                         ************************

He was bored already, she could tell.  He was a scientist at heart, which she found humorous - Captain Curseword, the filthiest-mouthed man she’d ever met, the guy who could take a toddler’s boardbook with eleven words in it and turn it into a foul diatribe so intensely crass it made you step away from him for fear of the wrath of God accidentally hitting you while aiming at him - this man was possessed of an analytical mind so sharp and detail oriented that anything shy of a scientific documentary lost his attention within minutes.  His chosen profession suited his intellect, the chemistry aspect of pharmacology more than enough to give his mind something to work on all the time, but it ran so counter crossways to the physical side of him that sometimes she found herself wondering if he’d been accidentally housed inside the wrong body at birth.

In fact, sometimes it seemed like he wasn’t quite human at all.

She’d thought him an angel once.

And then she’d slept with him and realized he was, in fact, a god.

A god that was about to fall asleep less than ten minutes into Preacher episode one season four.  She looked over at him, next to her on the couch with his head back on the cushions, those stormy sky blue eyes half closed while his fingers tapped out an odd little rhythm on the thigh of her jeans.  Likely typing a chemical equation of some kind, his brain’s stubborn refusal to shut down long enough to rest seeping out through the steady drum of his fingertips.

He was a confusing thing sometimes.  He was both the best kind of man and the worst kind of man...and what she needed right now was the worst kind.

Taking that busily distracted hand from her thigh, she moved it up to her chest and laid it palm-down over her breast.  Jake didn’t respond, but his fingers clenched slightly; she looked over to find he’d closed his eyes entirely, but the tiniest twitch of a grin was gently turning up the corners of that filthy, filthy mouth.

[amethystpath-writes]

P3 A Sculpture and Fate

Part 2 here

******

Briella would have never imagined she’d be delighted at the sound of a gasp- they seemed to signify an ending, like when one was stabbed and left to bleed out between an alley of the market all alone. She’d seen it happen before- witnessed Death claim a soul in the dead of night. It’s what made running from her home so difficult. Because if Death were so accustomed to her village, and those surrounding it, why wouldn’t they love the woods just as much?

And anyways, Death wasn’t the only dreadful deity in existence, for gasps could also signify shock and fear- such as Briella’s first night in the woods when she spotted her first tuft of fur. She had thought it to be a rabbit, but of course, it was not. Anyone would have thought this was the fastest she ever ran in her life, after seeing a wolf- one starving and more aggressive because of the fact- but this was not the case. See, it wasn’t until weeks of living in an old cottage that Briella experienced the feeling of her lungs collapsing in on her, when she sought for a sword nowhere to be found.

What a miracle it was, now, though, to hear a gasp- an intake of breath usually followed by such horrific connotations, but was, in this moment, only chased with delightful tears.

“I didn’t know if I’d ever see you again,” Mum cried. Briella could tell how genuine her mother was- not just by the hug and breaking voice, but also her greasy hair and cold hands. This happened when Mum was stressed, when she felt hopeless- like the world was out to get her.

“I’m okay,” Briella assured in a soft voice. In truth, she was still shaken, and unconvinced this moment was even real. How was it possible to be home after she had been running for weeks, after she had been chased- sought out for simply existing? Being home, in her mother’s arms…it was impossible, wasn’t it?

“Your father…” Mum trailed off with a heavy sigh. Suddenly, sighs were a dreadful thing once again, something that arrived just before the Bearer of Bad News.

“He left to save me, didn’t he?”

Mum nodded, stepping away from her daughter. Looking at Briella now, all she could think was, Goodness, child, you are filthy. Of course, Mum wasn’t in much of a better state, but her personal hygiene was less of a concern given how her daughter was in the woods for weeks on end, living on her own, living with a murderer on her trail. She shook her head in the disbelief and shock of it all. “How are you here, Ella?”

In other words, how had Briella escaped Vince? Where was he? Was he dead? Did Briella kill him? Did he never find her? Should she still be running? So many questions packed into one, and all Briella could say was this: “Sir Vince brought me home.”

This, without doubt, only created more questions, but what did it matter? There would always be more questions, more fear as time passed by and Briella still wasn’t dead.

What an awful circumstance- to fear every day you are alive. Sure, Vince decided to not kill Briella, but it didn’t mean he wouldn’t change his mind again. And it didn’t mean that possible change of mind wouldn’t be soon. Any breath could be Briella’s last…she almost wished she would have let Vince kill her.

“What do you mean he brought you home?” Mum demanded. “Are you sure you should be here?” She thought Briella was imagining circumstances, didn’t she? Thought her poor daughter was so deeply rooted into her own fear that she imagined everything working out when it didn’t.

Maybe it was a hallucination. Maybe Briella imagined that encounter in the woods- when Vince shoved her face in the mud and told her to find a sword. When she searched for her father’s weapon in the rotting cottage and found it in Vince’s hand instead. When she convinced him to let her live by telling him a story- a rather short story at that. And finally, when Vince took her home, or at least within kingdom territory. Maybe it was Briella’s hopeful imagination- to save herself, or to be saved at all.

“Well, I will not go back into the woods,” Briella finally said, snapping herself out of her own thoughts. She added, “Unless it’s to being Father home.”

Mum shook her head. “No. Absolutely not.” For another time, Ella was drawn into a hug, squeezed as if her mother thought she’d slip into the woods again.

“If someone doesn’t go after him, then he will stay in there forever.” They both knew this- both knew Father would walk through every inch of the woods to find Briella. He’d kill himself if it brought him closer to her, brought him closer to saving his daughter’s life.

“But you don’t have to be the one to find him, Ella,” Mum scorned. “You should have never been in those woods.”

“I would have been killed if I’d never gone in them.” Briella swallowed at the thought, and at the thought thereafter. Vince handled himself well enough in the woods. “I’ll ask my knight to go after Father.”

Mum pushed away again. “Your knight?” she questioned, tone like a knife. “I don’t care what Fate says, that man- if you can call him one- is an abomination, one Death should have stolen-”

“Fate put us together!” Briella sucked in a breath before apologizing. “I don’t like him any more than you do, Mum, but…well, listen, Mum. Vince-” Sir Vince, she thought to herself- “is the only person worthy of those woods who would walk in for Father. He’ll brave the woods for a fellow knight.”

“He tried to kill you because Fate bounded him to you. Why would he care for a runaway soldier- one that is your father? He’s doomed,” Mum said about her husband.

“I’m not going to let him die in those woods. I’ll die finding him, or I’ll die making Vince find him.”

“Or,” Mum ventured, “you can avoid dying at all. Lay down for tonight and we’ll figure out what to do in the morning, yeah?” Her daughter nodded. They went to bed.

***

Briella didn’t sleep that night, but instead left to find Vince in the barracks. It was a feat to enter- a feat to make herself appear like a measly squire running late after his knight. But when she made it in, she found Vince almost immediately. His eyes found her, and Briella could almost swear her feet were on fire. She wanted to run out the way she came.

“A moment, men,” Vince had said to the other soldiers which sat at his table. They were playing a game of cards, but now had to wait as Vince took Briella’s elbow in his hands, squeezing with all his wrath. He led them outside, where the breeze managed to push Briella’s hood off. “Unfortunate to see you made it home.”

It was clear how much anger Vince was holding back. If he had been in his own home and Briella would have shown up like this, she had no doubt he would kill her then and there. Right now, however, his men were inside, and they probably weren’t fond of soulmates killing soulmates.

“I need your help.” Vince spun on a heel. Before Briella could think about what she was doing, she put a hand on his arm- his arm which she now realized was bare…his whole chest was bare. Her eyes went wide, but she cleared her throat and dropped her hand. “Please. My father, he’s- he went looking for me and I know he won’t come back until he finds me. He doesn’t know I’m alive, Vin- Sir Vince.”

“You seem to be so fond of Fate- maybe if he is meant to come back alive then he will.”

“It doesn’t work like that and you know it.”

“Maybe I know and simply don’t care.”

Briella protested. “You do care- I know you do. However little your heart is, I know there’s an even smaller part of it that is crippling at the thought of not helping me.”

Vince crossed his arms, his head tilting down in a manner which told Briella he didn’t care at all to be standing. “Not at all.”

Shaking her head, Briella huffed. “What is wrong with you?” She said it quietly enough that even she could barely hear herself, but Vince was a wolf- of course he heard her.

“I don’t like being told who I should love.”

“You are a soldier! You take commands every day!”

Vince’s clenched his fists since his arms were already crossed tightly. “Quiet,” he warned. It wasn’t he who would be in trouble for Briella being here. It would be her- for pretending to be someone else and sneaking into the barracks. He warned her…because he was protecting her. Did Vince even realize it?

“Those commands are different,” he said. “Those commands serve to save lives, to preserve the kingdom. This”- Vince raised his crossed arms, gesturing to Briella- “is a different field of command- one that shouldn’t exist.”

“Why not?” she demanded. “Have you ever even thought of getting to know me? Maybe you would like me.”

“I could never.”

“Because you won’t allow yourself to!” Briella whisper-shouted. She sighed and shook her head, crossed her arms like Vince had done from the beginning. “I already told you that I don’t expect you to love, or even like me, but will you at least let me admire you for the soldier you are and ask for your help? Will you help me, Sir Vince?”

He considered her for a moment, looking her up and down, as if he were expecting Fate to reveal herself in Briella’s eyes. Maybe Briella would simply fade away and her image would be overtaken by the evil deity.

Vince looked at the night sky and his shoulders fell into a relaxed state. He bit his cheek.

“Come back at sunrise. Your father wouldn’t have gotten far without a horse.”

Despite herself, Briella opened her arms and enveloped Vince in a hug. “Thank you,” she said, and repeated, with tears lining her eyes in a burst of relief she could never describe, “Thank you.” Then? Her arms slid away. “Wait, what do you mean ‘come back’? You want me to go into the woods with you?”

“Maybe a wolf will attack, and you’ll be out of my hair for good.”

Briella squinted her eyes, swearing she saw a hint of a smile on the brooding knight’s face. As quickly as she thought it appeared, a definite frown took its place. “Go home. If you show up at sunrise like you just woke up, then I’m not taking you.”

“Is that right?” Briella dared to continue. “Me being sleepy should sound convenient to you- means I’d have less ability to defend myself if you decided to try and kill me again.”

He peered at her, brows drawn together. “You couldn’t fend me off if you tried.”

“Combat isn’t always physical, soldier. I talked you out of killing me the first time, remember?”

She didn’t watch for his response, or even listen for it. Briella turned her back on him- perhaps a daring act- and began to walk away. “Until sunrise, Sir Vince.”

[coollyinterferes]

Character Interview || Repost, don't Reblog

NAME  :   Robert Edward Orville Speedwagon

NICKNAME  :  Boss, aniki, “bastard!”/"that son of a bitch!” (usually from rival gang members, so the insult varies sometimes lol), Rob (used by a few friends), derivatives of his last name −Speebs, Speeds, Speeb, Speedy, etc− but these he will only accept them from certain people, otherwise he will do his best not to cringe on the spot or will do it inwardly. Uncle Speedy and etc later on (as in once George and the rest of the children come into his life, more specifically~).

AGE  :   25 in the main verse (may vary depending on the verse)

SPECIES  :  Human/Stand user in the main/time-travel verse | Vampire in the vamp!verse | Werefox in the monster!verse

—— Personal! ♡

MORALITY  :      lawful   /   chaotic /   good   /   neutral   /   evil  /   true .

RELIGION  :   Non-practising catholic (was raised as Catholic, like most other Victorians, believes in God, but that’s pretty much about it)

SINS   :     greed   /   gluttony   /   sloth   /   lust   /   pride  /   envy   /   wrath  .

VIRTUES :     chastity   /   charity   /   diligence   /   humility   /   kindness   /  patience  / justice.

KNOWN LANGUAGES :   English is his first language. Conversational Spanish, Italian, French, Portuguese, German and some more. Some conversational Mandarin Chinese as well (this one thanks to Li −canonly known as Kenpo, his Ogre Street friend−) and bits of Irish (this one thanks to Tattoo, his other Ogre Street friend). He can read and understand some Japanese (kana and some okurigana/kanji) but can’t really speak or write it. Same case for some other languages that he can also recognize and more or less understand bits of them but can’t really speak them. As you probably guessed, he’s learned most of these through his many journeys around the world.

SECRETS  :  All of the stuff in regards to the stone mask and all the events and incidents that came out from that (it was stated that the only ones who know everything about it from start to end are Jonathan and Speedwagon, the others who might know a great deal of it would be Straizo and Master Tonpety). He also tries to keep a low profile in regards to his homosexuality whenever he’s out of the slums to save himself some trouble due to the stigma at the time and the potential legal consequences, going only for the gay codes of the time (long hair, cleanly shaven face, colorful accessories, etc) so I guess that could count? Other than that, and in the verses that it applies, his stand mayhaps?? That’s what allows him to leap through timelines in the time travel verses (it possesses other abilities and skills but, since Robert doesn’t even know about his stand’s existence yet, he hasn’t trained with it and thus he doesn’t know about any of it’s abilities, not even about the time travel oof).

—— Physical! ♡

BUILD :     scrawny   /   bony   /   slender   /   fit   /   athletic   /   curvy   /   herculean   /  pudgy  /   average   .

HEIGHT  :   5’11”, close to the 6’ mark (181 cms)

SCARS   /   BIRTHMARKS  :    The most recognizable one is the scar marring the left side of his face (going from the top of his nose to his jaw), but he has plenty more scattered all over his body, some more visible than others, some larger than others. Most of them come from fights and his general criminal lifestyle, some of them even come from some of the torture sessions he’s endured as part of that (so it isn’t surprising that they were either caused by knives, gunshots, burns, shards of glass and etc). Most of his scars are located on his chest and arms, some more on his hands/wrists and fingers (hands/wrists and fingers mainly from when he was learning to use his buzzsaw hat), though he has a few more on his legs/thighs, lower abdomen, and a couple more on his back. In the main verse (usually set in the late stages of PB), he will have a few more from the events in PB −burn scars on his hands from the fire at the Joestar mansion, one on his shoulder from the attack he received from Jack the Ripper, an ice burn across his abdomen from thawing Zeppeli’s arm, and a couple more and not so visible ones on his arms from minor injuries (cuts) he got while fighting and fending off zombies−. Most of the “PB scars” aren’t too visible thanks to Jonathan (he used his hamon to heal Speedwagon’s injuries shortly after).

ABILITIES   /   POWERS  :  He’s able to tell an evil person from a good one by their smell alone. He’s a resilient man and quite a strong one, too (stronger than the average guy, as he was shown killing zombies using his brute force only and a sledgehammer). He's good at hand to hand combat, he’s also good at using knives and guns, and at wrecking shit with a sledgehammer. I also hc that he's capable of creating veeeeeery small amounts of hamon (this as a result of Zepp's "accidental" slip) if he really puts his mind into it. Due to his current limitations with it, his hamon can’t be used for fighting, but it does enhance his healing process, making it slightly faster than that of an average human (with some proper training, chances are he might be able to do more with it, tho). His stand, in the verses where he has it, can perform time travel, which happens at random at first (he gradually gains control on his stand once he learns about it and starts training with it). Due to stands being a reflection of sorts of their user and their fighting spirit, and as an extension of Robert’s own hamon healing abilities, his stand also possesses healing abilities that can be used both on himself and on others, though this requires some training prior, as the healing relies entirely on Speedwagon’s own life force and can be fatal for him if used carelessly at first (once properly trained, it won’t represent a real danger for him to use). Much like Robert himself, his stand is also capable of packing some punches and causing serious damage on it’s opponent despite his stand being more of a “support” stand rather than a fully combat based one.

RESTRICTIONS  :  He's mostly a regular human in the main verse, so he’s at a great disadvantage against stronger supernatural beings such as vampires and pillarmen, for example. As stated above, the amounts of hamon he can currently create are small and, thus are difficult −almost impossible− to use for combat (again, this can change if he gets some proper training). His lack of knowledge on his stand’s existence can also count as a restriction for the time being, as he doesn’t know about it or it’s abilities and, thus, can’t use it at his will for now (it operates mostly in an “unconscious” level at first, usually after getting triggered). He also tends to wear his heart in his sleeve when it comes to the few people he truly holds dear and considers special to him, so that can be used against him if he’s not careful enough.

—— Likes / Scents! ♡

FOOD  :    He isn’t really picky with food since he grew up in absolute poverty and sometimes went for days without a single bite of food or eating stale (sometimes even moldy) food so like… he’s cool with pretty much anything nowadays. He’s also an adventurous man, so he’s always open to trying new and even “exotic” stuff. Other than that, pastries are one of his top fave things ever (creamy ones mainly but not exclusively).

DRINK  :   Tea −citrusy/fresh types mainly like lemongrass, same with berry teas−. He doesn’t mind sweeter teas but, since he usually has them with the pastries, he prefers something more “sour” to balance things out. He also likes coffee, liking it strong, kind of sweet, and hot (just how he likes his men lol). As for alcoholic drinks, he’s all for beer and gin. He also enjoys some of the sweeter ‘posh’ wines Jonathan normally has at his home.

PIZZA TOPPING  :  As far as I know, pizza toppings weren’t as creative and “crazy” in the 19th century as they have been over the last few decades, so he’s only used to more ‘traditional’ stuff like variants of Pizza Margherita, for example. However, in the time travel verses/modern!AUs he will definitely try all kinds of pizza toppings (yes, this includes pineapple pizza as well as entirely sweet pizza toppings and so on) and actually likes some of them.

COLOUR  :    Purple (shades like those of his waistcoats i.e.), pink, greeeeeeenvert, black.

MUSIC GENRE  :    More than a genre itself, he enjoys and appreciates music that can make him feel something. Toss some pub songs there for obvious reasons lol.

BOOK GENRE  :     General fiction mostly. He also enjoys reading some romance novels every now and then whenever he gets the chance to get his hands on a gay romance one, either featuring two males or two females (he doesn’t find the appeal in “traditional” ones for a variety of reasons).

MOVIE GENRE  :    Non-applicable in the main verse. Time travel verses −if he even gets the chance to watch a movie− and even in a modern!AU, his go to genres would probs be similar to his book genres, lol, just add some comedy there but like, not the ‘cheapest’ and cringey kind of comedy.

SEASON  :     Autumn and Winter (harsh winters are a pain in the ass in Ogre Street, but he can handle them fairly well overall)

CURSE WORD :   Fuck / Shit / Bloody and variants of it (like Bloody Hell) / Arsehole / Wanker / Damnit / Bollocks, Ballocks and all of it’s variants / Bastard / Motherfucker / Zounderkite (victorian for “idiot” but with even harsher and ruder connotations than just using “idiot” lol) / Beardsplitter (one of the victorian words for “penis” xd). There are plenty, plenty, more but those are the ones I can think of rn. He comes from the darkest pits of the slums after all, so yeah... Lots of cussing can be expected.

SCENT ( S )  :    Sweet and masculine musky scent, mainly, with an occasional subtle note of gunpowder and/or tobacco depending on whatever tf he’s been doing. Maybe a vague note of blood if he just got out of a fight. Some vague vanilla too but that one only around the time when he lands a temporary job in a bakery in London.

—— Fun Facts! ♡

BOTTOM OR TOP  :   Top leaning verse. He only bottoms occasionally for serious/long term boyfriends that he genuinely trusts, partly due to how being a bottom was (wrongly) perceived as being submissive by most people, and how dangerous being seen as such can be in a place like Ogre Street if the word gets out (not to mention that there’s been people there who have given him shit just for being gay), and partly because he also prefers to top and likes it better, lol.

SINGS IN THE SHOWER  :   Yeah. He started doing it as a child as a way to keep his mind distracted from how cold as fuck the water he’d wash himself with was (he usually bathed in rivers or washed himself with buckets of water some maid forgot outside of a household and that he managed to steal). He’s become a lot more used to cold baths over the years so a distraction is not necessary anymore, however, he still sings or hums sometimes whenever he has a song stuck in his head or if he’s particularly happy about something (this continues later on in life as well,even after cold baths are no longer part of his life, so it’s a habit that he never actually leaves).

LIKES PUNS  :    He loves them! Lame ones, good ones, cheesy ones, silly ones, witty ones, dirty/vulgar ones, etc. Heck, even dad jokes can be found in his repertoire! Chances are that, if you come to him with a pun or joke, he will give you one or two (maybe even more) in return.

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

Tagged by: @le-princesse-chevalier​​ (( thank you so much for the tag!!! ♡♡ ))

Tagging: @historias-multorum @jojoingjoseph @gazelessmenagerie @usfv @featherchan @kindersturm @iiguess @storiedocs @quirofiliac @rotrioted @breatheflcra @emcraldsxchcrrics @arrhythmiiia @mechahero @voltagecrow @promiseled @joesrparchive (tagged your main but the tag applies to any and all of your muses that you might want to fill this for >:D) @rzrbite​ @mistymiddiana (if you’re up for it) & also tagging anyone and everyone who wants to give this a shot! Just take it and say i tagged you~ Multis and peeps with 2+ muses, feel free to do this for as many of your muses as you wish!

[alittlebitgoofy]

if you want it make a move (taywhora)

part 2!! surprised i did this so quick but motivation happens, I'm not sure if it went right, I'm still new to this but we trying. we stan emerald for betaing, love it when someone is shocked i write canon compliant now skdjhfksjdf

title is from yours by now now

ao3 link 

The drive home was monotonous, despite the entertainment of Bimini next to him. Tayce felt the hangover from last night dully present throughout the day. It filled him with a bit of dread to realise tonight would end up much the same. Perhaps he could hold back on the alcohol, though with A’whora around, that didn’t seem like a possibility. He hated the taste of it and yet loved to get drunk with people. Tayce learnt that one after many a night of drinking. The more he had, the more he’d egg Tayce on. It led to many horrible hangovers but it was part of what made his roommate so fun.

Speaking of A’whora, said roommate was constantly texting him. Clearly, the clingy behavior wasn’t just a result of the alcohol. Tayce chalked it up to excitement. A’whora loved a party and celebrating the end of their journey on the show was something they had to do. They wanted to send it off well and have a fun night to remember.

“Is that A’whora again? Swear she never leaves you to breathe.” Bimini giggled as Tayce’s phone vibrated again. He could only laugh it off, knowing the connotations of it all but not wanting to deal with that. The sexual tension was the most annoying thing, Bimini knew his aversion to it but it made jokes all the funnier to most people.

“He’s a right hound, was drunk calling me last night asking when I'll get home when I’d already told him.” Tayce couldn’t help but smile a bit in memory of the night before. It was stupid and by no means should have entertained him but there was something cute about someone so genuinely missing him after only a day apart. This was their thing to celebrate and he craved it as much as his roommate did.

“Aww, he misses you. That’s cute.”

Bimini teased, with Tayce barely able to hide the blush forming at the idea of it all. There was a part of him that missed the idiot when he wasn’t around. Something about his goofy smile, dimples showing whenever he barked out a laugh that was reminiscent of a seal. It made his heart squeeze in a way no one else could. The absolute hound, having the gall to be that cute.

He stayed uncharacteristically quiet, participating in conversation with Bimini every so often but staring out the window texting A’whora more than anything. Thankfully Bimini didn’t comment on it, assuming it was the hangover and not the thought of the clingy boy he called his best friend.

---

The realisation that Tayce didn’t have his phone had come quickly after entering the door. A’whora was there offering his own to call and sort the situation. It came to the conclusion of them mailing it back, with Tayce frustrated about the amount of time without his phone but thankful it was safe and he’d get it back.

A’whora helped take his mind off it, jumping at the chance to pull him into a tight hug and whisper how good he was in the finale. It was a brief moment, and Tayce wanted nothing more than to throw his bag in his room and chill out for a bit before they started celebrating.

The table that got set up was nostalgic, it looked like a kids party, with party rings, sausage rolls. The staples of a party for children, but it added to the warmth bubbling up in Tayce. They’d gotten a huge cake from some company he’d forgotten the second A’whora told him.

A’whora seemed delighted by it all, reveling in how the table was set up. Tayce couldn’t help but laugh at how focused he was on the aesthetics, always the designer.

“Wonder how easy it’ll be for you to get drunk, my favourite lightweight.” Tayce smirked, poking A’whora’s shoulder as he let out a huff.

“I am not! You can’t drink that much more than me anyway, you hound!” He exclaimed, gently shoving Tayce in protest.

“You take 3 or 4 drinks to get tipsy, don’t kid yourself.” He deadpanned, A’whora pouting in response, refusing to confirm or deny the statement though they both knew it was true.

His guess was right, on the fourth drink A’whora was sneaking closer, clumsily trying to get his attention without causing too much of a distraction. Their roommates would hound them the second they realised something may be going on but he was too busy buzzing from the alcohol and close proximity to Tayce to care.

Tayce himself wasn’t far off, a few drinks in, beginning to feel the alcohol in his system. Though there were some shots involved too, he still wasn’t as bad as the mess nestled into him.

A’whora was glued to his side for most of the night; the more drinks, the more giddy the pair became. Everything felt real now, the show had ended and it was supposed to be sad but in the company of each other it wasn’t. They were so glad it happened, reflecting on it all and sending it off like this just felt right.

“I’m so glad we got to do all of this, isn’t it wonderful?” A’whora mused, briefly philosophical before turning his attention back to the cake in his lap. He kept leaning over to offer Tayce some, despite being fully capable of getting his own slice, this felt better. He felt something in him flutter at the affection.

“Yeah, feels like we’re free now, we got on the show, we did it. Now we get to live our best lives with that experience,” Tayce agreed, and even though it amused him a bit to see A’whora become a suddenly philosophical drunk, he had a point.

“You did so well in the finale, I’m so proud of you.” A’whora turned to him, soft brown eyes shining with admiration. Tayce wanted to avoid the gaze, to avoid dealing with the emotions it brought but that was just his talent. He looked so genuine in the statement, Tayce had never needed someone else’s approval, though this felt different. It wasn’t in the same way people always said it. A’whora genuinely looked up to him, it was cute.

“It was fun, I think we all knew Bim or Lawrence was going to win, took a lot of pressure off of my shoulders.”

“You’re my winner.” He didn’t try to hide the tenderness in his voice. The brown-haired man stared at Tayce like he was the only person in the world. His smile melted Tayce down to his core, pulling down any walls to just focus on him, here and now.

“You’re such a softie.” Tayce’s voice was also tender, pulling the smaller man into his arms, as if he needed protecting from anything in the silent room.

It was at that point he noticed everyone had gone, that it was just him and A’whora in the room, so much space around them but unable to pull themselves apart.

He shifted in Tayce’s arms, turning to face him. His face morphed between a few things, at first neutral, then into a goofy smile before something more thoughtful, Tayce knowing the look all too well. He was going to ask something, possibly something Tayce didn’t want to answer and it would be hard to say no to those eyes.

“Tayce, why do you never talk about your feelings?”

There it was. The emotional drunk A’whora, wanting nothing more than to open himself up and have someone do the same in return. Tayce wasn’t closed off to the idea, though he hated to be pried open. It was his choice, and no matter how much he trusted A’whora, he wouldn’t be able to do it on demand.

“I do, just don’t spill my vulnerability because that’s not how I deal with it.”

“You know what I mean, you’re never fully open with me. LIke I’m always the one bearing my heart and you shut yours out even when it’s only us.” A’whora frowned, eyes falling to the ground. It looked like tears were starting to build up, Tayce not knowing if he had it in him to deal with emotional crying drunk A’whora while he was gone himself.

“I know you don’t like being vulnerable, but I can tell you have feelings. Wouldn’t it be easier if you admitted it? We could be happy, but you just want to hide that part away, like it’ll go away when it clearly hasn’t.” A’whora continued, not waiting for a response and cutting Tayce deep. He was speechless, he knew deep down they were both aware of it, but it hit differently to hear it said out loud. His face spoke for him, eyes wide and flickering everywhere that wasn’t his roommate. This wasn’t a conversation you had while drunk, but it seemed like he didn’t have much of a choice with A’whora’s persistence.

Tayce tried to formulate his response, to honestly tell A’whora about his fears, not wanting to ruin the strong friendship they had and not feeling like a relationship would be good. It could work, they both knew it. They got along so well; they had amazing chemistry. The only thing stopping them was the hesitance.

The only thing stopping them was Tayce.

Maybe he should stop getting in his own way, and let himself try something outside of his comfort zone. Relationships were the one no-go in his life but why did they have to be? He didn’t have to be powerless at the idea. A’whora deserved better. So he kissed him, not waiting to think it through. A’whora was startled at first, but returned it enthusiastically, his arm snaking its way around Tayce’s shoulder to pull him in ever so closer.

They fell apart, trying to catch their breath as Tayce noticed the blush on A’whora’s face.

“Are you blushing? You give me this whole speech and you’re taken aback when I do something about it? You’re adorable.” Tayce’s face lit up, poking A’whora’s cheek and delighting in how flustered he looked.

“I’m not! The alcohol is making my body warm, you hound!” He futilely protested, blushing further as Tayce snuck closer, hand placed firmly on his chest to feel his racing heart.

“You’re an awful liar, it’s cute.”

A’whora jokingly shoved him, hiding his face in his hands as if it would help the situation.

“So do you want to do something about it? You were all talk last night, back it up, Georgie.���

If A’whora had anything left in him, it fled his body at that. He was left like a statue frozen at Tayce’s sudden shift. He could only lean into his hands as one cupped his face, pulling him into a more desperate kiss. Tayce wanted him, and he would let him have everything.

[persephonesfill]

choke on me—chapter one

breathe me in (prequel fic)

chapter two

a/n: you all liked breathe me in so much that i got inspired to write a sequel! read breathe me in first before reading this fic. enjoy!

summary: After fending off an alien invasion, Tony Stark has one more obstacle to face; Steve Rogers. Steve believes that they have a connection which Tony is trying hard to ignore. After a moment of passion aboard the helicarrier, Tony can't seem to stay away from Steve as their lives grow ever more intertwined.

rating: Explicit, so explicit

warning(s):  tony has self confidence issues but what else is new, heavy smut

—————

Romanov’s eyes narrow when Tony and Steve enter the briefing room. 

The fact that they’re even having a meeting after a literal alien invasion makes Tony seethe. Bureaucracy never sleeps, he guesses. (He’s not pissed because SHIELD commandeered one of the rooms in his tower. Honest.) 

Tony arches a brow at Romanov. She’s a clever one, she has to be for her line of work, but Tony’s clever, too. He knows that to beat her at her own game, he has to play into it. 

“You’re late,” she says, in lieu of a greeting. Compared to the rest of them, she looks quite put together. Not a hair out of place, the cut on her forehead cleaned and bandaged. The archer—Barton, his brain supplies—sits with his feet propped on the table like a goddamn heathen. Tony doesn’t say anything, though. Barton’s eyes have a faraway look; the archer’s mind is on anything but social etiquette right now. Even Thor, who’s a supposed god, looks a bit winded with one hand on his hammer and the other propping up his face. Bruce is full-on asleep, not that Tony blames him, with a shock blanket strewn about his shoulders. 

“Fury isn’t here yet,” Tony says, sounding like a little kid arguing with his sister. 

Natasha hums, and her eyes flit over to Steve. “You two look friendly.” 

Steve, bless his heart, blushes but doesn’t say anything, and Tony’s just reminded of how he looked when he came down Tony’s throat; head thrown back, mouth open, and skin flushed.

Tony swallows down the sudden lump that arose in his throat and scrambles to come up with something, anything, to not blow their cover. He doesn’t want it to get out that he and Steve had got up to something.

“I was being a good host,” Tony says. “Steve wanted to see the tower. Or...what’s left of it.”

“It’s ‘Steve’ now?” she says with interest, and Tony curses her. He walked right into that one. 

Fortunately, Tony’s good at thinking on his toes. “Alright, you caught me, Romanov. I just spent the last half hour rocking Rogers’ world.” 

Steve chokes, and Tony jams his elbow into his side. Steve coughs into his arm and clears his throat. 

It’s got Romanov’s attention. And everyone else’s, apparently. Bruce is still sleeping, but Barton’s turned his eyes onto them, that faraway look receding slightly. Thor’s sitting up now, his arms crossed in front of his broad chest. 

Romanov’s eyes roam from him to Steve and back again before she snorts. 

Tony’s surprised she can even make such a noise. 

“Fine,” she says. “Keep your secrets.” Somehow she makes it sound like a threat. 

“You’re seriously gonna leave it, Nat?” Barton asks.

“You didn’t see them before,” Romanov says, leaning back into her seat. “Rogers wouldn’t touch Stark with a ten-foot pole.”

Okay, that fucking hurts, but before Tony can even open his mouth to argue, because what the fuck Romanov, Fury stalks into the room with his duster flapping behind him. 

If Tony weren’t so pissed, he’d make a snide comment about Severus Snape. 

“Are you two going to sit down, or should I reschedule this meeting?” Fury says. 

Tony grits his teeth but sits down (far away from Romanov), and Steve sits next to him. 

They elect Thor to nudge Bruce awake, who looks at them with bleary eyes and his hair askew.

Steve places a big hand on Tony’s thigh underneath the table. It feels like a brand. 

The meeting is agonizingly slow and painful, and Tony wishes they all would leave. Barton and Thor almost come to blows over what they’re to do with Loki, but in the end, they decide to let the Asgardian face punishment in his own land, far, far away from Earth. 

“It’s not fair,” Barton hisses, his hand balling into a fist when Fury leaves the room with Thor on his coattails to collect his brother. “His daddy,” Barton spits out the word like a curse, “won’t punish him.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” Bruce says, stifling a yawn. “Odin exiled Thor to earth when he disappointed him.”

“Banner’s got a point,” Romanov says. “I want him to pay, just as much as you,” she admits. “But how would we even go about punishing a god?” 

“I have ideas,” Barton says, and Tony flashes back to Afghanistan, to three months of darkness and dampness and death, and he understands Barton’s rage. 

“I’m sure you do,” Romanov says. “Pass them along to Thor and see how he takes them.”

“Or better yet, tell me,” Tony finds himself saying. Four pairs of eyes shoot to him. If he were a lesser man, he would have wilted under the sudden attention. “I’ve got a bone to pick with Reindeer Games, too.” 

“Yeah?” Barton says, crossing his arms. 

“Seriously,” Tony says. “Now that we know that beings like Loki and Thor exist, shouldn’t we be prepared for others like them?”

“Stark’s right,” Steve says. Tony tries to hide the surprise on his face. Were his blowjob skills that good? Steve squeezes his thigh in response. “Who’s to say that Loki was the last of them?” 

Tony’s skin prickles. The others may have fought the Chitauri, but Tony had seen them and what lay beyond them. He had always been good at seeing the forest behind the trees. He had a feeling that they had barely scraped the surface with the Chitauri. There was something or someone more vicious, more bloodthirsty than any other foe they had fought combined. 

All of the Avengers seemed to sober at that thought. 

“Well, we’ll just have to be ready, won’t we?” Romanov says, her voice cutting through the silence.

“We also deserve a day off,” Barton says. “At least I do. I don’t know about the rest of you slackers.” 

That defuses the tension in the room, just a bit. Bruce lets out a light chuckle while Natasha just rolls her eyes. 

“Oh, please, if anybody carried this team, it was me,” Natasha says. 

Steve’s hand leaves Tony’s thigh and slides up to the small of his back. Some of the tension leaves his shoulders as he leans back into Steve’s touch. Tony doesn’t know what Steve wants. He doesn’t know if their little triste was just that or if there was room for more. Tony doesn’t like not knowing things. But he’ll let Steve have this, for now.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but I didn’t see anybody else carry a nuke on their shoulders into an interdimensional wormhole.” 

He waits for the snide comments, the jeers, the disgust to cross their faces but instead...instead they laugh. And it’s not a laugh of derision; Tony’s heard enough of those to recognize them. These are real, genuine laughs. 

“Fair,” Barton says, the corners of his lips quirking up. 

“No, not fair! Only two of us can fly,” Romanov says. 

“Can Thor really fly?” Bruce says. “I feel like it’s more of a controlled fall. He throws his hammer and lets the weight of it take him where he needs to go.” 

“He’s in the air, he’s moving, as far as I’m concerned, it’s flying,” Barton says. 

Tony and Barton end up arguing the semantics of flying over a finger of Tony’s best scotch, Bruce occasionally chiming in, Romanov and Steve looking on in amusement. 

They’re annoying, Tony thinks. They’re annoying and loud and destructive and—

Tony is starting to like them. His feelings had always crept up on him like a lion stalking its prey, only pouncing when he least expected it. He was starting to like them, even Romanov, who he was still kind of pissed at for her earlier comment. But he didn’t blame her. Why would Steve want to touch him? Tony had practically thrown himself at him.

“He pulled you in,” his mind supplies, trying to be helpful. “He pulled you in, and he kissed the living daylights out of you.”

But maybe Steve had been desperate? Desperation drove men to crazy lengths, including sleeping with your...enemies? That wasn’t right. It held too many negative connotations, and despite their rough start, Tony didn’t think he would ever fight against Steve. Rivals? Or was that too petty? Just what the hell were they? 

The state of his and Steve’s relationship (if he can even call it that) nags at him. The others start making their leave until Steve and Tony are the only ones left. 

The boardroom feels like a matchbox with Steve so close to him with no buffer. Steve’s making himself useful and tidying up the papers and glasses strewn about the table. Tony pours himself another finger of scotch, lets the whiskey burn his throat on the way down. He needed something to ground himself. His eyes follow Steve’s every movement like magnets. Heat blossoms low in his belly when he remembers how Steve had touched him like he was nothing but a toy for Steve’s pleasure. The thought shouldn’t turn him on as much as it does. 

Tony clears his throat, catching Steve’s attention. 

“Some meeting,” Tony starts and immediately wants to slap himself. He should just get to the point. Why even bother with small talk? 

“You’re telling me,” Steve says carefully. Always so careful. Except for when his hands are shoved down Tony’s pants. 

Tony shifts in his seat and hopes that Steve won’t notice, but of course, when do things ever work out the way Tony wants them to? Steve’s eyes track his movements with all the purpose of someone used to analyzing situations. Is that what Steve thinks is about to happen? A battle? 

“How are you feeling?” Steve asks, setting down a stack of papers. 

“Sticky,” Tony says, deadpan. They hadn’t gotten the chance to clean off after their little...excursion on the helicarrier. 

Tony expects for him to blush like he did earlier after his standoff with Romanov. But instead, the bastard grins at him. 

“My bad,” Steve says. “Any other time, I’m pretty good at uh, cleaning up.” 

Tony throws back the last of his scotch and tries not to think of Steve on his knees licking at Tony’s thighs and groin and—

It’s not working. But then Tony remembers Romanov; “Steve wouldn’t touch him with a ten-foot pole,” and any desire he had dies. He should nip this in the bud now. They are absolutely not having a repeat performance. 

“Good thing it was a one-off,” Tony says, hoping his voice comes off light and airy. “Otherwise, I’d be pissed.” 

Steve’s smile falls, and if Tony didn’t feel like an asshole before, he sure as hell does now. 

“Oh.” 

“Just a little favor between two pals, right?” Tony says just to dig the knife in a little deeper. “Let him hate me,” he thinks. “It’s easier that way.” 

“Right.” Steve clears his throat. “I, uh, guess I’ll get going.” 

Part of Tony wants to latch onto his arm, pull him through the glass and the rubble of his penthouse suite, and into his bedroom and never let him go. He stomps that urge down with steel-toes boots. 

“See you around, Steve,” he says as Steve makes for the door. 

Steve pauses at the threshold and doesn’t look at him when he replies, “See you around, Tony.”

*** 

Life goes on. Tony reunites with Pepper. Tony’s mansion gets blown up. He loses Pepper for the final time. 

And it’s fine, really. Being cool with terrorists blowing up your home and experimenting on you without your consent is a lot to ask of anyone, even if that person is Pepper Potts. 

Pepper kisses him on the cheek, and Tony knows it’s the end. 

“I’m sorry,” she says. 

“It’s okay,” he says, and he means it. Because Pepper is still his and he’s still hers, just not in the way they had originally wanted. 

So, he’s single and homeless, technically, but overall it’s not the worst year of Tony’s life. 

He thinks about rebuilding his mansion in Malibu, but something stops him. 

“New York?” Rhodey asks him over Skype, curiosity twisting his features. 

“Yeah,” Tony says, clutching a pillow to his chest. He’s currently staying at one of his vacation homes on the Amalfi coast. His bedroom has a perfect view of the sea. Every evening, he sits out on his balcony and tries not to think about how Steve’s eyes are the exact color of the Mediterranean at sunset. 

“Malibu feels like an old chapter of my life. I think I’m ready for something new.” 

Italy is lovely, but Tony is so lonely. He’s never been good by himself. 

Within a month, the renovations on Stark Tower are completed, and Tony makes his move to New York. 

It’s odd, living by himself again. Of course, Tony brought his bots with him, and he integrated JARVIS into all of his personal residences. Still, there was no Pepper to remind him of some upcoming awards ceremony, no Rhodey to get into trouble with. Happy went with him because wherever Tony went, Happy followed. Tony’s sure Happy would have followed him into battle if he could. But Happy doesn’t stay in the tower, and Tony doesn’t expect him to. He knows Happy has a life outside of chauffeuring (and he hasn’t missed the looks between Happy and Pepper whenever she’s in town. He’s happy for them.) 

That’s when he starts collecting Avengers like a kid collecting those little trading cards when Tony was in college. Digimon? Pokémon? It was something that ended in -mon, he was sure of that. 

Bruce shows up first, drawn to the idea of a bed to sleep in, a constant food source, and a (relative) lack of people shooting at him.  

Bruce brings warmth to his tower, where there had been nothing but the coldness of electricity and steel. Sometimes when their research aligns, they’ll spend hours together in Bruce’s workshop. They’re good for each other, he thinks. Bruce gets him to eat a real meal and even stops DUM-E from putting motor oil in his smoothies. Tony gets him to open up. He wants to get to know the man behind the Hulk. For a moment, they’re at peace. 

Then SHIELD falls. 

Things get more complicated after that. 

Steve and Natasha show up with Clint right behind them. They’re still healing from their injuries, but overall they’re okay. Aside from dumping hundreds of SHIELD/HYDRA’s secrets onto the world wide web. 

Tony takes them in because, despite everything that happened between him and Steve, he did offer him a place to stay. Tony’s not that much of an asshole. He’s not going to retract on that offer.

Besides, his tower is enormous, and he knows it like the back of his hand; it takes nothing for him to avoid Steve without making it obvious. 

However, Tony didn’t account for the sudden friendship between Steve and Natasha, the traitor. (He doesn’t know when she stopped being just Romanov in his head.) 

Natasha must have been trailing him to learn his schedule because Steve corners him right as he’s leaving his workshop to head up to Bruce’s floor. His fellow scientist was making curry, and Tony didn’t want to miss out before the other Avengers (vultures) devoured it. 

“Can we talk?” Steve asks, leaning against the wall with his hands shoved into his pockets. 

Tony stops in his tracks and immediately wants to do a full 180 back to his workshop and not come out for a good ten, twenty years. Stark Industries is in good hands, and Rhodey can take over for him the team, and he can live in his workshop like Gollum in his cave—

“Tony?” 

His eyes snap up to Steve. Right. They were having a conversation. Tony’s self-loathing can kick in later. 

“Yeah,” Tony says. “Sure. Let’s head up here,” he gestures to the living area situated by the staircase. This floor of the tower serves as Tony’s second home, an escape from all of his penthouse suite’s showy glamour and the lack of privacy on the communal floors. The penthouse suite reminds him too much of Pepper, anyway.

There’s a small but up to date kitchenette off to their right done up in polished mahogany, tan stone, and black appliances for whenever hunger strikes. Tony heads to the left with Steve following behind him. His living area also functions as a bedroom of sorts. Tony had invested in a plush brown leather sofa from a high-end Italian furniture manufacturer. Sinfully soft and draped in luxurious throw blankets, it served as both a sofa and his bed when he couldn’t be bothered to take the elevator to his penthouse suite.

In a strange role reversal of the last time the two of them had been alone, Steve grabs onto his wrist and pins Tony down with his stare. 

“We can talk right here.”

Tony swallows. “Okay. Sure. That works, too.” He looks down pointedly at Steve’s hand. 

Steve flushes but lets Tony go. 

“I’m sorry,” Steve starts. 

“No harm done,” Tony says coolly. On the inside, he’s trying not to scream. He had forgotten that Steve’s hands were so big. 

“I just needed to know…” Steve hesitates, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. “Did I...did I do something wrong?”

And that, that makes Tony blink. 

Steve pushes on. “On the helicarrier...did I come on to you too strong? Because if I did, that wasn’t my intention at all—”

Tony holds up his hands. “Wait, what? That’s what you want to talk about? Steve, it’s been two years.”

“I know! I know it’s just...we haven’t spoken at all about...the thing, and you’ve been avoiding me ever since I stepped foot in this place.”

“I—”

“And don’t say you haven’t,” Steve says with a hard stare. “I’m old, not an idiot.”

“Okay,” Tony says. “Okay. I guess you could call it avoiding.”

“Why?” Steve asks. “I’d rather you just tell me.”

Tony sighs. He’s too old to be having this conversation and telling Steve the truth would just be mortifying. “Romanov hurt my feelings, so I pushed you away before you could do it to me,” sounds pathetic, even to his ears. 

“A half-truth then. A lie grounded in reality,” he thinks. 

“You want to know why?” 

A muscle in Steve’s jaw jumps. “Yes. I would.”

“It wasn’t your fault, trust me,” Tony says. “I just feel like maybe you didn’t want to jump headfirst into this,” Tony gestures between them. He won’t dare call it a relationship. “I came onto you out of nowhere and didn’t even stop to think about whether or not you were ready for...anything.” He’s talking in circles and what’s worse is that he knows he’s talking in circles. Every muscle in his body is taut, waiting for Steve’s reaction. 

“You blew me off,” Steve says slowly, “because you thought I wasn’t ready for...this?” He’s taken on Tony’s terminology. 

“You were fresh out the ice, Steve. I figured the last thing you needed on your plate was something like this while you were still getting used to the 21st century.”

“Tony,” Steve speaks his name so softly it feels like a caress. Tony wants to step back. He wants to put on the suit and fly to Malibu, to Amalfi, to anywhere but here. 

“Tony, I don’t regret what we did,” Steve says. There’s a determined light in his eyes. Tony feels like the prey again. Steve has always made him feel like he’s being hunted. 

“Okay,” Tony says, steeling himself. 

“I want to do it again,” Steve says. “If that’s alright with you.” 

Steve wants to do it again. He wants to fuck Tony again, and the scary thing is, Tony’s going to let him. Arousal pools in his belly as he lifts his head to look at Steve head-on. 

“Okay,” he says. His voice already sounds wrecked. Desperate. Then Steve’s on him.

Tony hates how he falls into Steve’s arms as soon as his lips meet Tony’s. He had thought once would be enough, just enough to satiate the burning in his blood. He hated being wrong. 

Steve’s kisses are sloppy, almost desperate, but if anything, it just winds Tony up more. It’s like he’s fallen ill, with a feverish heat spreading throughout his body in waves. His heart pounds so loudly, it nearly drowns out the words Steve murmurs when he finally pulls away from Tony. 

Steve’s face is devoid of all masks, his lips cotton candy pink against his flushed skin. 

“I did that,” Tony thinks with some wonder. “I made him this way.” 

“What?” Tony says, only a little dazed, or so he hopes. Part of him flinches at the thought of Steve realizing just how far this well of desire he has building beneath his skin goes for him. 

“Don’t run,” Steve says. His arms wind around Tony’s waist with all the finality of a lock clicking into place. 

Tony swallows, his brain trying to parse through the hazy cloud of lust that had descended upon his brain. Steve’s eyes are big and so fucking blue, he almost can’t look at them directly. 

“It’s like looking at the sun,” he thinks. 

“Wasn’t planning on it,” he finds himself saying. 

“Just one more time. Just to get him out of my system.” 

Steve’s eyes narrow like he knows exactly where Tony’s brain went, and isn’t that a terrifying thought that Steve can already read him so well. Steve doesn’t call him out. Instead, he kisses Tony. 

Steve kisses him like a thief, all greedy and ruthless, stealing his breath away. Steve walks them backward until Tony feels his legs hit his sofa. They stumble onto the couch, Steve lying on top of him, eclipsing Tony. 

Steve’s lips are on his again. He can’t get enough of Tony today, it seems. His tongue slips into Tony’s mouth, one of his hands running down his chest and into his pants. Tony arches into his touch, moaning into Steve’s mouth. Steve may be a thief, but in this moment, Tony is just as willing to give him everything he has. 

Steve’s hands are so big and hot as they palm at Tony’s length. It doesn’t take long for him to harden in Steve’s grasp. 

Steve works him over with quick strokes of his hand, breaking their kiss to murmur in his ear, “Come on, baby. Spread these legs for me.” 

Tony did as he was bid, letting his knees fall open. 

“That’s it,” Steve says. 

“Can I?” Tony begins, unsure of how to continue. He’d never been shy during sex, but what he and Steve were doing, as much as Tony stomped it down, felt deeper than a simple hookup. 

“Go ahead, baby,” Steve says. The pet name flows off his tongue like honey. “Tell me what you need.” 

“I want to touch you,” he declares. “Let me?” He looks at Steve and hopes his eyes look wide and sweet. He remembers how Steve had snapped the last time he had looked at him like that, the bruising kisses and the hard, almost punishing way Steve had gotten him off…

Steve gives him a crooked smile. Tony’s not...disappointed, per se, but he wouldn’t have minded it if Steve had lost control again.

“Go ahead,” Steve says. “Whatever that big brain of yours has in mind.” 

That’s all the permission Tony needs, and his own hands work at the fly of Steve’s jeans until he’s pulling Steve’s cock loose. Steve catches on quick and shucks his jeans down to his thighs. He yanks Tony’s sweatpants down in one swift motion. This is the most exposed Tony has been in front of anyone since his relationship with Pepper burst into flames. And listen, Tony knows he’s not ugly (he’d been named Sexiest Man Alive twice, up there with George Clooney and Brad Pitt), but Steve is the literal epitome of human perfection. It could just be the childhood trauma rearing its ugly head, but Tony feels small underneath Steve. Unworthy. Useless. He’s thrown back to the present when Steve rolls his hips and slides his cock against Tony’s. 

“Come on, genius,” Steve says. “Work with me.” 

Tony lifts his hips to meet Steve, and the hot slide of flesh against flesh leaves him gasping like a virgin. 

“Fuck,” Steve hisses. “Just like that.” 

They settle into an easy, almost instinctive rhythm, Steve thrusting, Tony rising to meet him. Their groins are slick with sweat and precome. Tony’s sure that if they had bothered to get some lube, they wouldn’t have lasted half as long. It’s like someone’s turned a dial up on his senses. Wherever Steve touches him, his cock rubbing against Tony’s, is like someone lit a bundle of matches. He’s so hot, he’s sure his skin is smoking. He can hear everything. The hum of electricity present throughout his tower if you listened hard enough, Steve’s muttered curses, the wetness of Steve’s cock rocking against his. 

“One day,” Steve says, picking up speed. “One day, I’m gonna tie you to your bed just like this. Get your thighs all wet and slick and fuck you until you’re coming all over your goddamn stomach,” Steve punctuates his words with a hard thrust, and that’s it for Tony. One more word out of Steve’s mouth and he’s done for. 

“Holy shit, Rogers,” he says, sounding breathless to his ears. 

“I’m not done, sweetheart,” Steve chuckles. “How do you feel about toys?” 

“Yes. Yes. Fuck, Steve, I could make them. Anything you want.” 

And he finds himself meaning it. He’d give Steve the sun if he asked. He tries not to let that scare him. 

“How about a nice vibrating cock ring, hmm? Slip it on you early in the morning. Maybe a long-distance remote to go with it, keep you hard and ready all day long.”

Tony bites back a cry, his cock jumping with arousal. “Fuck, Steve, yes, please, yes.” 

“Then don’t run,” Steve says, his voice sounding all dark and gritty. “Don’t run, and I’ll give you everything you fucking want, just don’t run away from me, again.” 

Afterward, Tony blames it on his approaching orgasm, but in that moment, all Tony can say is, “Yes, fuck, I’m staying right here.” 

They come together, oddly enough. Steve’s teeth sink into Tony’s throat, and Tony’s throwing his head back as his come lands on both of their stomachs, and it’s so. Fucking. Good.

Tony’s floating. He didn’t know when his Italian leather couch turned into a cloud, but he’s floating with Steve kissing the bite he left on his neck. 

They curl close together, uncaring of the mess cooling on their stomachs. If Tony has anything to say about it, there’s a nice joint shower waiting for them when they find the will to move. Steve places one final kiss on the bite. 

Tony knows what it is. A marker. A claim. He’s Steve’s for as long as Steve will have him. Tony’s willing to indulge him. For now. 

“Shower later?” he asks, his words thick and syrupy from post-orgasmic bliss and the sudden need for a nap. It’s a struggle to keep his eyes open, but he doesn’t want to stop looking at Steve’s handsome face. His perfectly coiffed blond hair is mussed. Steve’s skin has taken on a peachy, damn near radiant glow. “Nap first,” Steve says. 

“Steve may have left his mark,” he thinks. “But I left mine.”