#the fics will be written one day

[raplinesmoon]

a brief note:

i’m not usually very eloquent with my words, so if this is rough and i say something wrong or offensive, please forgive me, it’s been hard to piece together the right words. if there’s spelling errors, this is not proofread, and I’m sorry.

I’ve always maintained that writing and this blog is a safe space for me, a place to escape from the real world when I need it. but right now, what’s going on in the world isn’t something I can escape from. it’s robbed me of my sleep and my sanity. and honestly, writing and kpop just don’t even seem like valid enough escapes anymore, even though I feel immensely privileged to have these escapes in the first place. I feel numb. but it’s not even about me or this blog or any wips I have.

if you have five minutes to scroll through my blog, or any other kpop blog on Tumblr, I urge you to take another five minutes out of your day and learn about what’s going on in Gaza right now. do your own research, and uplift voices that aren’t being heard.

the beauty of being here is being able to connect with so many people far away, across the country or even across the world. if we can use our energy to celebrate our groups and our faves, we can also do the reverse.

life as we know it is being uprooted for so many people, the least we can do is be cognizant of that, to give some of our energy to mourn their losses and grieve alongside them. even better yet, we can hope alongside them that this reality doesn’t have to endure, that more innocent lives will not be lost.

if you get nothing else from this, I’ll leave you with this — if you’ve also been like me, feeling completely scared and horrified by what’s been unfolding, i see you. i feel your pain, and if you’re grieving, i feel your loss. i ask you to remember those on the other side of this who have a right to be even more scared and even more horrified, and who deserve your attention. the world is a complex and hard to understand place, but at the same time, it’s not. it’s brutal and violent. Please remember, that far beyond and political or religious debates, foreign economic and social policy, etc, when oppressors and bullies square off, and when people are power hungry, innocent lives are always in the middle of it. and that should be something that none of us are willing to be okay with.

if you want to stop reading here, that’s totally okay, otherwise check the tags to listen to me ramble on

[strangersteddierthings]

Shovel Talk(s) Part One

Part One 🦇Part Two🦇Part Three🦇Part Four

Steve and Eddie aren't even together when Steve gets the Shovel Talk from Eddie's uncle, but it is what tips Steve into talking to Eddie about his feelings, so he's not upset by it.

They aren't dating, not because he doesn't want Eddie, because he absolutely does. It's just that he wants to be sure Eddie wants him back. There are times when he's sure, when Eddie gets into his space a bit too close, or more often, than he does with anyone else. Eddie calls him a thousand and one nicknames, ranging from sweet to irritating but just when Steve thinks that's a perk left just for him, Eddie hands someone else a new nickname (just the one, a voice in Steve's head that sounds suspiciously like Robin says).

Not that any of that is the point. Wayne wouldn't bother to give Steve a shovel talk at all unless he knew how Eddie felt. Wayne is a man of action, and he's never done anything unless it mattered. Meant something. Steve and Wayne have sat in plenty of (what Steve considers to be) awkward silences because Wayne doesn't talk to fill the void of silence.

The point is, Steve drops Eddie off at the house the government so graciously bought for the Munsons, walks Eddie to the door and giving Eddie a hug goodbye. He stays on the porch until Eddie shuts the door and then nearly jumps out of his skin when he hears Wayne call out his name.

"Harrington," Wayne says from the shadows of the wrap around porch.

So, Steve jumps and it's only then he notices that Wayne is sitting at the table and chairs set up on the porch. "Mr. Munson, sir, hi. Hello."

Wayne lets out a chuckle, but it doesn't really sound amused. "I have come to accept that you are nothing like your father, boy, but I do want to make it clear to you, that Eddie means more to me than anything else on this Earth."

"I know, sir."

"I know you do. And while I will forever be grateful that you helped return him to me alive, know that I will not hesitate to make you disappear if you hurt my boy in a way he can't bounce back from."

Steve's not afraid of Wayne, not really, but that doesn't stop him from feeling the need to flee. He doesn't, though, because he'd gotten enough shovel talks from concerned parents in high school, and he knows they can sense weakness. "I can't promise I'd never hurt him, sir, but I can promise it'll never be intentional."

He can't actually see Wayne's face in the darkness but he feels sized up all the same.

"I believe that, Steve," Wayne says, and it's the first time Steve's ever heard his name leave the man's mouth, "now go home."

-

Wayne's shovel talk was expected. Robin's is not.

"You took Eddie on a date date?" She whispers it as though they aren't alone in Steve's living room. They're laying on the floor in a line, heads next to each other so if they turn slightly to the side they can make eye contact. Steve's not sure why they always end up on the floor for Serious Talk Time.

"Yeah," Steve says, looking away from Robin's face to stare up to the ceiling, "I mean, sorta? We can't like... be open that it was a date, but we went to dinner and a movie and it was nice. Shared a popcorn and played footsie under the diner table."

"Whoa," Robin says. "I never thought you'd- didn't think you'd be brave enough to ask him."

"Me either."

"Steve," Robin sounds serious, so Steve turns to look at her. She studies his face for a moment before she's the one to look away, speaks to the ceiling, "be careful with Eddie, yeah?"

"What? Careful how?"

"I just think you could really fuck him up," Robin says. "You're his first boyfriend, right? That's going to set a precedent for relationships that might happen if you two don't work out. And I hate to say this, because I know you've changed, but like, I saw how a lot of those girls you dated in high school ended up when you broke up with them."

Steve's a little hurt, because Robin's his best friend. She should be giving this talk to Eddie, not him. But, also, he understands. He knows that Robin knew about Eddie's sexuality before he did, knows they bonded over being queer while Steve was still figuring himself out.

Steve also knows that Eddie's never been in a relationship before, Eddie'd told him at much when Steve asked him out. Steve doesn't like that Robin implied that he and Eddie will eventually break up, but no matter how much that thought makes Steve's heart ache, he won't know if it'll happen unless it does.

He just doesn't understand why she seems to think he'll be the one breaking Eddie's heart. It could go the other way.

"Did you OD over there?" Robin asks, trying to lighten the mood.

"No," Steve answers, "I'll be careful."

-

They've been on four more dates before Nancy knocks on his door. She doesn't accept his invitation to come inside. Just starts speaking on his doorstep.

"As Eddie's Capital P Soulmate," is how she starts that sentence, and it makes something hurt deep inside Steve as he tries not to think about Robin, "I am obligated to remind you that I do own several guns now. And I don't miss."

"Jesus Christ," Steve says, because even Wayne was more subtle, "I got it."

"Good. I do know you'd never hurt him on purpose," Nancy says but Steve doesn't feel reassured.

He thinks that, if she really didn't think he's going to end up hurting Eddie she wouldn't have said anything at all. "Right."

"Well, good talk Steve," and then she's walking down the driveway and climbing into her car.

He closes the door and goes to the kitchen to get himself a beer, mostly so he has something to do besides stew in his emotions. He wonders if Eddie has been given the shovel talk, too? Maybe Robin did the same thing Nancy just did. Showed up unprompted, threatened Eddie with some sort of bodily harm, and then just left.

Steve grabs the phone and dials Eddie's number.

"Hello?" Eddie's voice greets him, albeit questioningly.

"Eddie, it's Steve."

"Oh, hello sweetheart," Eddie says, "are you calling for business or pleasure?"

Steve laughs, "business."

"Boo!"

"Listen, uh, I had a question. I just wanted to know if anyone's said anything to you. About us. Or, y'know, specifically about us and our relationship?"

"Uh, not really? A few congratulations, I guess. Why? Did someone say something?" Eddie's voice is level, almost too level, so Steve knows he's trying to keep cool.

"Oh, no! No! I mean, aside from the scary shovel talk from- Wayne, everyone's been surprisingly cool about it. Very supportive," Steve says and even though it's true, everyone they've told has been cool about it, it feels a little bit like a lie.

Eddie laughs, "I can't believe my uncle gave you a shovel talk! You know, I keep expecting to get one from Robin but so far nothing. She must think you're safe in my capable hands."

Steve is safe in Eddie's hand, he thinks, but that doesn't stop the sting that goes through him. "Of course, she does. You've been a perfect boyfriend."

There's a pause before Eddie's voice comes through the phone, soft and quiet, "I'm glad you said so. I want to be. For you."

"You're not allowed to say those kinds of things when you aren't within kissing distance, babe," Steve says, because if he doesn't add humor to this conversation, he's going to tell Eddie he loves him instead, and even Steve knows that saying that a month into dating is too soon, especially over the phone where he can't see Eddie's reaction.

Eddie laughs and makes kissing sounds at him before the conversation shifts to chatting about the day and making plans for the weekend.

-

Steve is trying really hard to not be the person he was in high school but every time he gets to the point where he's being a better person, someone brings up how he used to be. Shoves it back into his face that no matter what Steve does he can't outrun his past.

One such time is shortly after Steve and Eddie accidentally come out as a couple to all of Hellfire. Steve was just dropping off the boys and had stepped inside to chat a bit. Once game time had arrived it had and Steve made to leave, they'd (he and Eddie) had been on autopilot. Eddie'd whined 'where's my goodbye kiss?' and Steve had stepped over, kissed him goodbye, and was out the door before it had actually computed.

Steve had burst back through the door, rushing back to Eddie, because no way in Hell was he going to leave his boyfriend to deal with whatever the consequences would be alone.

It had been absolute chaos at the table with people shouting over each other.

"Of all the people you could be with, you picked Steve!? You could do better!" Mike had whined, and Steve had thought for sure he was the only one who had heard Mike until he saw Will punch his arm and hiss his own 'don't be a dick' at Mike.

It took almost half an hour to calm everyone down. It was a relief to know that Eddie had come out to his bandmates/the older Hellfire members already. The kids took it in stride, in the end, and Eddie had shoo'd Steve away.

Jeff had excused himself, too, and Steve thought he was just going to use the bathroom but instead he followed Steve outside.

Ah. Steve knows what's coming.

"Harrington," Jeff says, "can't say I'm excited that you're the secret boyfriend Eddie's constantly sighing wistfully about. I'm sure Wayne's already threatened you," And Robin, and Nancy, and Mike doesn't think he's good enough, "but if you hurt Eddie-"

"I get it! There will be dire consequences if I hurt Eddie," Steve snaps, not down for hearing it anymore. He stomps to his car and peels away from the curb without bothering to look back.

-

If he's being honest, Steve didn't even know he had a breaking point with shovel talks until he gets his fifth one from Dustin.

It's not even a shovel talk. It's just a single sentence, said almost a month after Dustin learned about their relationship. He's dropping Dustin off after their DnD game. Normally Claudia picks him up, but she's busy tonight and asked Steve to do it.

"Alright, Henderson, safely delivered."

"Thanks, Steve," Dustin says, unbuckles his seatbelt, and opens the door, before turning back to Steve. He just looks at him for a moment.

"What?"

"I'm happy for you and Eddie. Just, don't hurt him, ok?"

He nods his head but can't say anything. Dustin grabs his backpack, shoots him a smile, and climbs out. Steve does wait until Dustin closes the front door behind him before putting the car back in gear.

He manages to get home, somehow, because Steve doesn't fully remember the drive. It's not that his mind was so focused on something else that made him fail to take in his surroundings, but rather that his mind wasn't even a part of his body anymore.

One moment he was pulling away from the Henderson residence, and the next, he was home, just standing in his kitchen in the dark. And now that his thoughts are back, or easier to process, he finds himself wondering why everyone thinks that he's going to be the one to hurt Eddie.

How many people has he hurt that this is his reputation? Is it inevitable that he will hurt Eddie? Is it truly just a matter of time until he breaks Eddies heart? Why is everyone so convinced that he will?

Briefly the thought occurs to him that maybe he should call up Eddie and break up with him right now, before Eddie has a chance to get in deep enough that Steve could break his heart, but just the thought of it breaks Steve's heart, so he's not going to do that. Doesn't want to do that. That would just be punishing Eddie for something he didn't do.

None of this is Eddie's fault, and Steve's an asshole for even thinking of breaking up with him because of it. Which feeds him back into the loop of thinking that maybe everyone is right about him. He is an asshole and will someday hurt Eddie, perhaps even on purpose.

He loves Eddie. He's in love with Eddie. But does loving him mean proving his friends wrong? Or does it mean leaving him before they're proven right?

He wants to ask everyone why they think he'll hurt Eddie.

He wants to ask everyone why they don't care if he's the one that gets hurt.

[rebrandedbard]

How does the great Sandpiper successfully smuggle 130 children out of the Nilfgaard-occupied territory of Hamm? With the power of a forgotten story, a traditional song, and a masterful lie.

A piece for my upcoming fic, The Piper of Hamm, based on The Pied Piper of Hamelin, next in my fairy tale series.

[edsbacktattoo]

you know stede would play along with ed's innkeeper roleplay

OH MY GOD HE WOULD!!!!!! YOU JUST KNOW HE WOULD

he'd ding the bell without being asked to. he'd announce that he's got a reservation under some fake name, and then he'd ask ed to walk him to his room for him. i guarantee that fruitcake would even ask to see the ring of keys.

all ed wants in this stupid life is for someone to match his energy and be silly with. and then here comes drama-club-kid stede bonnet and blows it out of the fucking water. i hate them (lying)

[flowercrowngods]

hello i’m attempting something for steddie week too, but it'll be one large thing probably @steddie-week

day 01: pining

2 new messages

eddie The Problem munson: —steeb —esteban —stefano  —stevie —love of my life apple of my eye pls pls tell me i can call you  —i am very chill etc etc —no i’m not  —let me call youuuu  —😠🥺🙏

Steve snorts as he picks up his phone and reads Eddie’s messages that keep coming in his usual spam of consciousness, a giddy feeling spreading in his chest as he snorts and goes to answer. 

— Call me then, coward 

Not a second later, his phone rings. Steve picks up immediately, even though he considers making Eddie wait; just to be difficult. Just to calm his racing heart that is always so lively around Eddie. 

“What,” he says, attempting to sound bored and annoyed — in vain, because even he can hear the smile on his face. Traitor, he thinks to himself. 

“Steve,” Eddie sing-songs, drawing out Steve’s name like he does every time he’s happy. “Steve, Steve, Stevie.” 

“Ed, Ed, Eddie,” he sings back, relaxing into his couch and shutting the laptop. Lesson planning can wait, he decides, shuffling all the loose pages into the text book and placing his laptop on the pile, trusting that physics won’t betray him. “What’s got you so happy, hm?” 

“Why do you think I’m happy?” Damn idiot has a smile on his face as he asks that, Steve can hear it. It makes his own grin widen and he huffs into the phone. 

“I literally know you, babe.” 

Babe. His heart flutters every time he says it — and he tries not to, because it’s meaningless, it’ll never happen. But Eddie picks it back up every time, and Steve is weak. God, he is so, so weak. 

On the other end, Eddie hums and Steve basks in the sound for a moment. It’s always so contagious, Eddie’s happiness, and he wants to soak it all up. Wants to be the reason for it. Wants, wants, wants. 

“You do,” Eddie says, his voice so light and fond it makes Steve’s whole body tingle. And his heart flutter. And it fills him with such happiness that he feels like he could take on the entire world right now, just with the way Eddie’s voice went all soft on him. 

God, he’s hopeless. So, so hopeless. But he’s also weak. An addict, leeching off Eddie’s attention, getting a kick out of the smallest dose, and absolutely certain he couldn’t survive if it were taken from him. He needs it. Even if it kills him a little bit, because— 

“She said yes.” 

Steve blinks. “Huh?” 

“Chrissy. She said— She said yes, Stevie. We’re getting married.” 

He says it and he sounds so happy. So, so happy. And Steve is the world’s worst best friend for the way he freezes, the way he almost drops his phone if it weren’t for the vice grip he has on it, frozen in time and space because his heart has stopped beating. It has stopped, surely, because no beating heart can hurt this much. No beating heart can crack open and still work the way it used to three, five, seven seconds ago. 

Eddie, bless his entire soul, laughs to fill the silence, and it’s the happiest sound. A boyish one, like there is no pain in the world and not a worry on his mind. A bit hysterical, too. Like he can’t believe it himself yet. Like this is the best day of his life and saying it again has reminded him of it. At least that’s what Steve imagines it feels like when someone wants to be married to you. He wouldn’t know, of course, as the only person he would ever ask is already engaged to someone else. Apparently. 

Eddie is engaged. 

Engaged and laughing and so, so happy. 

And Steve feels nauseous. Dizzy. Breathless. His eyes begin to sting and the hand that’s holding his phone begins to tremble, his grip so tight it hurts. 

Steve feels… too much. His hands tremble and he tries hard not to cry. 

“You’re getting married.” 

“We’re getting married.” 

They’re getting married. 

Fuck. 

Someone has to tell Robin. Because in true Platonic Soulmate manner, Steve and Robin fell in love with the two people who are in love with each other. Like the chaotic mess they are. 

“Sorry I didn’t tell you about it sooner,” Eddie continues, a bit more sober now. Sounding genuine and sufficiently awkward about it, in true Eddie-manner. Like the big old softie he secretly is. “I would have, but…” 

But I know you’re in love with me and didn’t want to burden you with the love I carry for someone who isn’t you, Steve’s brain auto-fills helpfully. But you keep flirting with me and there was never room for someone else when I was with you. 

But, but, but— 

He swallows and drags in a deep breath past the pain in his throat where all the words he can never say are forming a massive lump. 

“Hey man, don’t worry about that, we all know I suck at keeping secrets,” he offers. And it’s a lie, because he has kept this one thing secret for years and years. This one thing, this huge and all-encompassing thing that he can feel in the tips of his fingers when he is texting Eddie, and on his tongue when they are talking, and in his heart even when he is sleeping. 

This one thing, this one secret, is his never-ending love for Eddie. 

And he will add another one to that, a lovely little friend for it. To keep it company. That other secret, of course, will be the way his heart has shattered into a million little pieces and will remain that way until he can’t even look at Eddie anymore. And even then will he look at Eddie and smile at him, and Eddie will smile back and the pain will flare up again.

Again and again and again, for the rest of their lives. Possibly even beyond that. 

“You do suck at that,” Eddie chuckles, though it is quieter this time, almost private. Fond. Gentle. Always, always like that. It used to mean something once. And if Steve closes his eyes, he can imagine that Eddie smiles his secret smile, the one Steve has only seen directed at himself. It almost breaks him. 

Eddie’s I have known you for a whole eternity and love you beyond words, silly, but you also make my life so much harder-smile. That’s what he has dubbed it because that is what Eddie had said the first time he smiled like that when Steve was drunk off his ass. 

But. But, but, but— 

It’s no use to think of that now, to reminisce and imagine what might have been if… Well. If Steve weren’t Steve. 

And that sure is a dark path he doesn’t want to trudge now, not in the face of the even darker path of Eddie getting married that he sure as hell will have to walk down for the rest of his life. 

He sighs and tries to think of something to say. Something good. Something that is not Please don’t marry Chrissy. Please don’t take yourself away from me. Please. Please don’t get married to anyone who isn’t me. Please open your eyes and see me, please listen to me, please understand what I say when I say I love you. Please.  

He kind of spaces out for the rest of the conversation, not really listening to Eddie’s words over the ringing in his ears and the pumping beat of his shattered heart. 

Eddie speaks softly to him, the undercurrent of happiness and contentment still in his voice, and it would give Steve life, it would be contagious, it would be so very precious if it didn’t also drive the knife of pain ever deeper into Steve’s entire soul, slicing him apart with no one around to put him back together again.  

Splitting him in half. One half that just wants Eddie to be happy, to sound like he does right now for ever and ever. And the other half, loathing that Eddie’s happiness is not inspired by him, not because of him, not in any sort of relation to him. 

It’s not fair. And Steve is torn. So he shuts himself off and lets Eddie ramble, tells him that he is tired after pulling an all-nighter again and wrangling the his difficult seventh graders that were particularly hard on him today when the other man asks him if he is all right. 

“Steve,” Eddie sighs, and a traitorous tear rolls down Steve’s cheek at the caring exasperation he hears there. “How often do I need to tell you that sleep is important? You’re gonna wear yourself out at this rate. And the kids just suck.”  

“I know,” he says, and sniffs, willing the tears to not fall. Not until Eddie has hung up on him. 

“Aww. That emotional, huh?” 

At that, Steve sobs out a laugh and gladly accepts the way out. “Well, excuse me, my bestest friend whom I love very much is getting married soon! Or, well, I hope it’s soon, nobody has time for all that suspense. Anyway, I am allowed to be emotional about this!” 

Eddie chuckles again and sighs gently. “Yes, you are. I’m glad you are. Thank you, Stevie.” 

Don’t thank me. Not for this. Not over this, please, don’t thank me. 

“Don’t thank me,” he says with a grin, and it hurts his cheeks from how forced it is. “Thank yourself for being brave enough to actually go through with the proposal! We both know you’re chicken shit.” 

Just like me, he thinks. Just like me. 

They laugh and it sounds hollow to Steve’s ears. He just wants the phone call to end, wants this to be over with. Wants them to not get married. Never, ever, in this life or the next. 

He wants… he wants Robin. No, he needs his best friend, his soulmate. He can’t cry alone, not about this. 

Eventually, Eddie hangs up, that smile still so audibly his lips, and that painful happiness still very clear in his voice. Steve wants to share it. But he can’t.

All he can do is stare at the phone in his trembling hand before he closes his eyes and lets himself cry, his head falling back against the couch until he slumps over to one side. He stares and he cries until he can’t anymore. 

Eddie. The love of his life. Is getting married. To Chrissy, the other, platonic love of his life, who is like a sister to him. Who, coincidentally, is the love of his real platonic soulmate’s life.

Fucking hell, the mess they find themselves in!

After a while of pitifully staring at the wall, all cried out and feeling thoroughly pathetic, he lifts his phone and speed-dials Robin. 

“Stevie?” 

He sniffs, and it must sound as awful as he feels, for her next words are, “I’ll be right there. Alcohol or ice cream?” 

“Both?” he whimpers after a moment, and Robin hums right back. 

“I’ve got you. I’ll be there in ten.” 

She hangs up before he can say anything more, and he is overcome with all the love he holds for her. 

As he waits for her to come over, he does not move from the awkwardly half curled-up position on his couch, the lesson plans for tomorrow forgotten completely. This is his life now. His Eddie-less life. His engaged-Eddie life. His loveless, hopeless, endlessly pitiful life. 

come back tomorrow for: bittersweet & angst | read here

[popponn]

so what if you are michael kaiser's ex. like just one of many, the one that broke up with him a year ago. the catch is that despite hating this guy's guts, somehow you always ends up meeting him again at least 3 times a month. 20 times, if you are particularly unlucky that month.

your friend drags you to a party? bam, kaiser is there—with a new date. a job meeting with someone in the cafe? wow kaiser is sitting two tables away. you got lost in some big city in another country with your phone battery dying? would you look at that—it's kaiser.

and, probably the worst part, it isn't as if kaiser isn't also sick of you. he is probably your #1 hater at this point. gone was the charming bad boy from the first date and only a bitter ex is left.

the funny part is that this particular bitter ex is one that accompanies you in the party when your friend left you ("my date gets boring," he said); one that looks ready to punch a guy and helps you when your client turns out to be an asshole ("why did i help you?" he parrots your question. "if i ignored that it will just be worse for me in the way that i don't want it to be."); and the one who makes sure you reach your hotel safely ("idiots like you need pity to stay alive.")

the one that doesn't want any present he gave to you returned, but also the one who scoffs whenever you ask "Why?" or "Why the fuck?"

(if kaiser is also one that couldn't swallow his pride to ask you back, that's for everyone except you to know.)

(and if you still never date anyone after breaking up with him that's your own problem and no one else's.)

i have been itching to write ex!kaiser since like. idk. last month?? a bit tempted to also include the 'we knew each other too long to cut each other off' trope, but that's for another time. he is enough of a complicated asshole already. so it's just 'exes who still clearly have feeling for each other' + 'exes who acts like sworn enemy' with a pinch of 'everyone knows and are sick of them' trope. this dude and this idea is hilarious to me because like he is kind of a himedere in my head, but he is so interesting and not just t h a t in a very 'i want to punch him' way. but anyway very brainrot but this guy, i believe, despite his narcissistic tendencies and all his self centered issues, seems like someone who will love deeply when it came for the one™. like dude is like that with soccer, the capital c commitment is strong. it's just reaching that stage that's hard, because he is also capital a asshole.

[willowcrowned]

bonus points if you say in the tags why the fic is on anon

[youremyonepiece]

anxious mornings

sanji x gn!reader (no pronouns used), sanji's pov

anxiety has a tendency to spread, as sanji discovers unexpectedly early one morning.

warnings: mentions and descriptions of anxiety and related symptoms; unhealthy eating habits; small implied mention of disordered eating; slight angst, comfort, light fluff (please lmk if there are any i should add!)

word count: 3k

sanji runs a hand through his damp hair as he steps out of the washroom, unsuccessful in warding off a large yawn. though the early waking hour is by no means unusual for him, he is but human, he thinks to himself with a slight chuckle; some mornings are just going to be easier than others.

shaking his head slightly as though attempting to scatter his thoughts around him like the water droplets that fly from his hair, sanji starts to make his way towards the kitchen. he needs to start prepping for the many meals of the day if he hopes to stand a chance at keeping up with luffy's incessant hunger. his fingers itch for a cigarette, anything to help stave off the remaining sleepiness in his system, but he resists the urge. while he knows he has little to no hopes of quitting, nor does he really want to, smoking this early in the morning feels like crossing a line-- not before breakfast.

it's as he's walking across the planks of the deck in the 4 AM darkness that he hears a sound he would recognize anywhere: the sound of a stomach growling.

sanji's eyebrows furrow as his thoughts about the day's menu are entirely forgotten. his head snaps towards the cluster of barrels from where the sound came-- a stowaway? he wonders briefly, but they've been out at sea for days now. there's no way someone could have gone unnoticed for that long. the growl is followed by a vaguely familiar soft sigh, causing sanji’s brows to furrow further.

he's at the barrels in a few long strides and can't stop his eyebrows from shooting upwards when he peers over their tops to find-- you. you're sitting on the deck with your back leaning against the barrel in front of him, eyes unfocused as they gaze across the distant horizon.

your name escapes his lips in confusion before he has completely processed your presence. you jolt slightly in surprise, clearly not expecting to have any company, before tilting your head upwards to peer at him.

"sanji?" you ask in your voice that he never fails to swoon at. a pause, and then, "is it that time already?"

sanji can't help but smile at your question. you truly are so sweet, so adorable-- he relishes the sight of your wide eyes, your slightly parted plush lips, your mussed hair. you're still in your pajamas, which isn't unusual in and of itself (you tended to get ready for the day after eating breakfast with the rest of the crew) but something about seeing you like this, alone in the early hour, feels more intimate than the two of you had been before. which, granted, was not at all, but that's only all the more reason he feels grateful to be here with you now.

he makes his way around the barrels languidly before leaning against the merry's railing, facing you with a warm expression. "indeed it is, sweetness. good morning."

he watches as a small smile forms on your lips. “good morning," you say, and sanji struggles to keep his thoughts from spiraling into bliss.

“you’re up early,” he comments casually with a friendly smirk, though a concerned quirk of his eyebrow gives him away. “to what do i owe the fine pleasure of your enchanting presence, my dear?”

the corners of your mouth turn upwards at his question, but he notices the smile doesn’t quite reach your eyes. "just couldn't sleep, i guess," you respond with a shrug, breaking eye contact to stare back out at the dim horizon.

it’s clear you aren't being completely honest, but sanji doesn’t want to push you to share if you don't want to. after all, it isn't like you guys are particularly close or anything. actually, he isn't sure if you could be considered "close" to anyone in the crew, with the exception of maybe luffy.

it isn’t that you didn’t trust them, not exactly-- despite the brevity of your time with the straw hats thus far, you’ve been through enough harrowing experiences together to know that you’ve got each other’s backs. but trusting someone with your life is one thing, especially when it’s already been proven in battle, and trusting them with your feelings is entirely another. it just hasn't been long enough yet; you’re still getting to know them.

at least, that's what he hopes it is, anyway. with the way his eyes seem to cling to you like flies to fruit, he isn't sure what he'll do if the truth is actually that you disliked him.

"anything i can help with?" he offers, trying to keep his voice nonchalant. he wants to help, but he also doesn't want to impose if you don't want him around.

to his relief, you meet his eyes again and smile. "that's kind of you, but no." you don’t say anything for a moment, holding his gaze with unreadable eyes and suddenly sanji feels as though he is gazing upon anubis instead, his heart being weighed on your scale to determine his worth. after a couple of seconds that span eternity, you say, “honestly, i’m just feeling a bit... not great.”

“not great?”

you break eye contact with him to look down at your stomach, silent for a moment again. “just anxious,” you finally sigh, your hands moving to rest at a spot right below your rib cage. “i feel it right here. it feels like... like pressure is building up, but if i press down on it then it's like i can get it to release," you demonstrate, causing a growl to emanate from your torso as though you had simply pushed air out of a bag. you exhale with slight relief again, hands still firm against yourself, before looking back up at him with an abashed smile. "i think my anxiety gave me gas," you half-joke.

sanji forces himself to ignore his ecstasy-- you’re opening up to him! he had just been thinking about it, too! you trust him!-- and to focus on your words instead. it gets easier as you continue, his frown deepening at the sound of your stomach growling again as he remembers what drew him to you a few minutes earlier.

he pulls out a cigarette with the slightest tremble in his hands-- breakfast be damned. you had just unwittingly reminded him of the fact that he’s only human for the second time this day already; some things are harder to deal with than others.

he takes a long inhale of his cigarette, letting the smoke permeate through his system and dull his nerves before slowly exhaling it in a thin wisp. "sweetness," he starts when he finally feels grounded again, eyes full of concern as they meet yours, "i don't think that's anxiety."

you seemingly can't stop yourself from releasing a short, incredulous laugh, lips curved in a smile but eyebrows furrowed and eyes guarded. "what?"

"at least, i don't think that it’s only anxiety." he holds your gaze steadily despite your spike of wariness. when he speaks again, his voice is sincere. "i'm sorry. i didn't mean to say you didn't know what you were feeling. it's just--" he pulls away from the railing to crouch in front of you, faces now at the same level. the cigarette between his fingers creates a soft haze in the air between you. "when was the last time you ate?"

sanji feels the guilt spread through him again and attempts to fight it off by taking another long drag of his cigarette. he turns away from you to puff out the smoke, lost in thought.

now that he's thinking about it, you didn't show up to dinner yesterday. or lunch. your absence hadn't been odd; in the not-quite-two weeks you had been aboard, you had eaten with the rest of the crew a whopping total of four times. instead, sanji had noticed you opted to grab your dish and eat in the open air of the deck, taking shelter under nami’s tangerine trees if the weather wasn't accommodating. but he can't even remember you stopping by to make a plate for yourself yesterday. and thanks to luffy, he hadn't noticed any discrepancies in leftover food (that is to say, there was none as usual).

you had been there at breakfast, but he can't recall you grabbing anything except a mug of coffee. how could he have failed to notice? when was the last time he had seen you eat in front of him? it's been maybe two days since, he thinks, hating that he isn't certain. this had happened under his watch. and that too, with you. the person he’s trying to get closer to, to befriend and become a trusted confidant of at the very least, and at the very best... well, he finds you very attractive. but he would never cross that line unless he was wholly certain you wanted to, too.

you're silent as well, seemingly thinking back to find the answer to his question. he watches color creep up your cheeks as something dawns on you, realization and embarrassment fighting for dominance over your features. "i ate last night. at like, ten," you finally respond in a meek voice, looking everywhere but his face.

he can’t stop himself from glancing towards the kitchen. “what'd you eat?” he wonders.

you remain quiet for a moment before sighing again. "you're right. i'm hungry. i... i hadn't realized."

he narrows his eyes at you without malice, seeing through your attempts to escape answering him. “what did you eat?" he asks again, his voice’s volume softening to match yours.

you wring your hands, still refusing to look his way. "a couple of almonds," you say eventually, sounding chastised.

"and?" he prompts.

you don't respond.

"okay," sanji says, feeling his hands tremble again as he takes in your words. "okay," he repeats, "what about before that?"

"um, i think right after you cleaned up for lunch? i stole a slice of cheese, the one with the peppers in it." he can see you’re struggling to keep your expression neutral, but he isn't sure which emotions you’re fighting off.

he does know which ones he’s struggling with, though. sanji feels his stomach turn with guilt and trauma at your words. "and before that?" he asks, his voice low.

"coffee, at breakfast." your hands still but they and your eyes remain on your lap.

he exhales your name softly.

"it had milk and sugar in it," you say defensively at his meager response, voice somehow even softer.

sanji lets out a quiet, humorless chuckle before taking your hands in his. he doesn't say anything, waiting, until finally you look up to meet his eyes. "why?" he asks when you do.

you look confused. "what do you mean?"

he raises one of his hands to tentatively cup your cheek, eyes full of tenderness and concern. "are you... unhappy with the way you look?" he asks carefully, trying not to word it in a way that could be misconstrued. when your eyebrows furrow deeper, he hurries to add, "because you’re-"

"no," you cut him off before he can undoubtedly shower you in praise, "no, it's not that." and then you add, cheeks flushing, "um. thank you, though."

sanji offers you a brief smile, his hand falling from your cheek and rejoining the other with yours, before frowning again. "is it my cooking, then? sweetness, if there's ever anything you don't like-"

"no, not at all," you cut him off again, this time with more certainty as you shake your head. "i love your cooking."

“then?" he prompts lightly when you don't say anything else.

one of your feet begins to flicker back and forth like a light switch against the deck, giving away your restlessness. you’re back to looking everywhere but at sanji, at his eyes. "i'm just... not hungry."

as if on cue, your stomach lets out another low growl, causing your blush to deepen in embarrassment. sanji wants to smirk at you, poke fun at how cute you look flustered like this, but the noise reignites his guilt. reminds him how you’d gotten to this state without him even noticing.

"your stomach says differently," he simply states. sanji pulls his hands away from yours before standing up and offering one back to you. you don't hesitate to take it, and he effortlessly helps you rise to your feet. "c'mon. let's get some food in you."

your wince at his words doesn't go unnoticed by him. he gives your hand, still in his as you both make your way towards the kitchen, a short squeeze before murmuring softly, "wanna tell me about it? you don't have to if you don't want to."

to be honest, he's surprised you've been so receptive to him thus far. he doesn't want to push his luck, your grace, because if he did-- if he made you feel uncomfortable, if you began to avoid him because of it-- well, it would feel crushing, that’s for sure.

the nervousness in sanji’s chest continues to blossom as you say nothing for a few steps. however, it’s swiftly replaced with concern when you do respond, your voice heavy with exhaustion. "like i mentioned before, it's because of my anxiety." you sigh once again, weighed down by your words. "sometimes it just gets... bad. i don't know why. i'm not even really sure if there is a reason, to be honest. it just happens every now and then."

the two of you have reached the kitchen by now. he silently holds the door open for you before leading you to a barstool at the kitchen island and walking around it to the sink to wash his hands. he holds his cigarette between his lips as he begins to gather ingredients from various shelves and cabinets and places them on the island between you.

“the anxiety makes me feel... full, i guess?” you continue. “i don't feel hungry, and i definitely don't feel like eating. and i feel so nauseated because of it, too. thinking about eating makes it worse. so does seeing or smelling food." you sigh. "i know i have to eat. i guess... i just didn't notice that i hadn't really eaten recently.”

sanji turns away from you, taking a final drag of his cigarette before snuffing it out and tossing it away. “you didn’t notice?”

“...i guess i didn't want to notice." you sigh for what seems to be the millionth time and sanji feels his heart twist. “noticing means admitting something’s not... okay.”

sanji hums once you trail off, signaling to you that he heard you and understood.

you start up again after a few moments of silence, restlessness shining through once more. “it’s not really that big of a deal, though. you don’t have to worry-- don’t worry about it. it’ll pass. it always does, eventually.”

sanji doesn’t respond, instead staring at the amalgamation of ingredients he had gathered specifically for you. his eyebrows draw together as he mentally rifles through countless recipes, determined to find the right one for you at this moment. something light, since you hadn't eaten properly in a little bit. no strong scents, either, except maybe ginger since that’s good with nausea. a variety of flavors and textures, to keep it fun. it’s early, so breakfast foods-- that means the bananas, yogurt--

"are you mad at me?” you ask timidly.

he freezes, mouth slightly parting in surprise before standing straight, his attention now entirely on you. "of course not, sweetness.”

"you seem upset.”

sanji takes a beat to process your words. he thought he'd been hiding his reaction well, but apparently not. "i suppose... i’m upset at myself,” he finally admits to you.

you frown. “why?”

he offers you a consoling smile, “you haven't been eating well and i hadn't noticed." he realizes you’ve reminded him for the third time that day that he’s only human-- as much as he wants to keep it to himself, to not burden you with his thoughts, he knows he stands no chance at resisting you. who could?

“but i didn't even notice," you insist.

he feels his adoration of you helplessly grow at your rebuttal. “true, but it isn’t your job to make sure all of our crewmates are well fed and healthy. it is mine."

“fine, but we're pirates,” you shoot back almost immediately. “we should all be taking care of ourselves-- i should be taking care of myself."

he chuckles at your fervency, the warm sound filling the room. “i get the feeling you’re not going to let me win this one."

"i didn't realize there was anything to win,” you grumble, making sanji laugh harder. when he glances over at you, he sees you're smiling, causing his own to widen.

sanji works in a comfortable silence for a few moments, his smile remaining on his face as he feels your eyes on him. he takes a step back when he’s done, admiring his handiwork before proudly presenting you with a small bowl and steaming mug. “made especially for you: peanut butter yogurt topped with diced bananas and granola, served with a cup of ginger herbal tea.”

simple, but he knows that’s always best when feeling nauseous. the cold yogurt should help settle your stomach, and the peanut butter provides extra protein which he had heard could help with nausea, similar to the ginger and bananas. and the granola ties it all together with its crunch.

you give him a genuine smile as your eyes glaze over the meal he had prepared before looking back up at him. “thanks, sanji.” you pause for a moment before adding, “are you okay?”

“what?” he asks, taken aback, then chuckles slightly. “aren’t i supposed to be asking you that?”

only you, he thinks to himself affectionately. only you would share something you’d been struggling with and then ask him if he was feeling okay. ever thoughtful, ever sweet.

his question seems to embarrass you and sanji can’t help the warmth that spreads in his chest as your ears turn red. “maybe not... one hundred percent, but better.” you meet his eyes again, your smile returning. “definitely better.”

his own smile grows uncontrollably wide as he leans over the island to place his hand on yours. “then, sweetness, i’m okay, too.”

[writeouswriter]

I love commenting on so called “older” fics because personally I have no actual semblance of the passage of time, if you commented on my fic from 2017, I’d be thrilled because in my mind, I wrote that baby last week, that’s nothing

[virescent-v]

Can you do a "on your knees" smut prompt?

Like a Prayer

A/N: I don't know what this is, but I'm happy with it I think? But mostly, I hope this is what you wanted! It's super short, but that feels right? Idk dude, it's all about the vibes today and I'm just rolling with it.

Word Count: 663 Warnings: it's smut lol but it's not as...detailed as some of my other stuff hehehe

Panting breaths, clashing teeth, pushing, pulling. 

Stumbling over each other and the trail of clothes you were leaving, you and Emily bumped into the wall outside of her bedroom. Her hands tangled in your hair, pulling your head back to give her room to attach her lips to your neck. 

Each breath you took felt like a fire in your lungs, like your chest was going to collapse in on itself. 

Leaving dark marks on your neck, Emily’s lips traveled back up, catching yours in a heated embrace. Breaking apart for air, Emily took your hand and led you into the bedroom. 

At the edge of her bed, her eyes caught yours, while her hands wrapped around your hips, her thumbs rubbing the skin exposed between your shirt and pants. You could feel the intensity of her gaze burning into you, a precursor for the mood of the night, a culmination of the heat that’s built up all evening. 

“On your knees for me,” she commanded.

You held her gaze as you slowly slunk to the floor, trailing your hands down her torso and legs, rubbing circles on her toned thighs. The soft click of the zipper as each part of the chain came loose echoed in your ears, heightening each ebb of arousal that coursed through you. 

The brush of fabric down Emily’s legs caused her to sigh, the kisses to her thighs caused her to whimper. The skim of your nose against her coarse curls as you breathed in her smell, her arousal for you, made her tilt her head back and shudder. 

“Eyes on me, Em.” 

Tilting her head back down, her eyes a shade darker, her hand tangled in your hair at the top of your head. 

With held eye contact, Emily guided your face toward her pussy. 

Emily’s eyelids fluttered at the first contact of your tongue on her clit, the soft, slow swirls causing her hips to jerk towards you. With each pass of your tongue, her eyes became seemingly darker, more hooded, a challenge to continue watching you. 

As you got into a rhythm, Emily’s hips started rolling into you, matching the pace you were setting. The movement of your mouth against Emily was making her let out the most delicious noises; groans, sighs, and guttural whimpers that had you moaning against her, the vibrations pushing her closer and closer to the edge. 

Switching it up to extend her pleasure, you started licking broad strokes against her, gathering as much of her essence as you could, the heady flavor driving you crazy. Getting your fill of her, you tossed one of her legs over your shoulder, opening her up further to you. Bringing up your fingers, you entered her, causing her to bend forward in bliss. 

Using your two fingers, you thrusted in and out, making sure to hit the spongy spot inside of Emily that always made her cry out. You loved feeling how wet she got for you, how tight her cunt would clamp down on your fingers as she started to reach her peak. Each thrust that brought her closer made Emily’s fingers tighten in your hair, pulling it to an almost uncomfortable pain. 

Her hips continued to grind against your face, as if she was starting to use you for her pleasure. It would’ve felt greedy, but you wanted her to use you, to take from you as much as you wanted to give.

As Emily came, her legs shaking against the side of your head, you held onto her to stop her from falling, but to drag out her orgasm until she started to push you away before becoming too sensitive.  

Miraculous, all consuming, addictive. The only words that encapsulated how you felt each time you made her cum. 

Getting on your knees for Emily felt powerful, almost religious, like a prayer to a god you didn’t believe in. 

It almost made you a believer, devout at the altar of her.

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

well. i can't find my original fic rec list so here's a new (updated) one!

Daily Routines by The Garden of Unusual Delights (Shadowland) A number of people who feel depressed turn to comedy. Routines can also help. / As can having someone to care for. 4k words / oneshot / complete - TOP fucking tier. this rewired my neurons, shifted my view of Barnaby & his relationship with Wally, and also made me Deeply emotional

How to Greet New Neighbours by The Garden of Unusual Delights (Shadowland) He doesn't know what's happening, but he knows it isn't good. 8k words / oneshot / complete - STELLAR. an intriguing and engaging (and heartbreaking!) take on how Wally wound up sending material to the whrp

A Matter of Care by The Garden of Unusual Delights (Shadowland) When Julie is too sad to take proper care of her hair, Frank is happy to help out. 2.5k words / oneshot / complete - this person always gets characterizations Just Right, don't they? this a very sweet and tender moment between the besties <3

What to call it? What to call it? by Anonymous Wally tries to figure out what is different about the Neighborhood. But maybe there is no difference at all. 2.2k words / oneshot / complete - a fascinating exploration / behind the scenes interpretation of the secret 14 audios. the end always has me in my feels <3

Strings Of Fate by A_Cypress_Coffin Frank Frankly lived life by simply trudging along most days, but all of that changes when a new neighbor, quite literally, crashes into him. 27k / multichap / ongoing - a very fun interpretation of Franklydear and how the puppets perceive / experience / handle the true nature of their reality. i Cannot recommend it enough!

To Read a Clock by TurnedWorm Frank and Eddie try to teach Wally to read a clock. They get a bit more than they bargained for. 2.7k words / oneshot / complete - sweet and also Haunting! a stellar combination, and an interesting take on Wally's perspective. ngl it gave me chills!

my chest is bursting with abnormality by springtrap_wiki Wally realizes that something about him isn't as it should be. 1k words / oneshot / complete - a little peek into Wally realizing that he's different than his others neighbors. I like how this is handled - it hits home if im being honest!

Goin’ Out of My Head by 5_24 Picking someone up from the bus station seems like an easy task. But when adding Eddie Dear to that equation and the passenger just happens to be Frank Frankly, the results may vary... 5.4k / multichap / complete - genuinely funny, cute, and entertaining. the perfect read for a laugh!

Inside Jokes by The_PastelVoid In which the puppets are waiting for Sally and discover that Wally apparently has a contagious laugh when Barnaby tells what is called an "inside joke". 2k / oneshot / complete - pure fluff and laughs <3

Goodnight, Wally! by PastelDemon ... But what would happen if, one day, without any warning, Wally suddenly could sleep just like everyone else? 19.5k / oneshot / complete - very sweet with a sprinkling of angst, and an entertaining take on what a new-to-sleep Wally might be like

Welcome Home: Fantasy AU by ImaginatorOfThings What would happen if we took our lovable cast of puppets, and put them into a Fantasy alternate universe? 28k / series / complete - a VERY fun fantasy au with a fascinating twist. it made me tear up, it made me feel some dread, it made me smile! what more could we ask for <3

[zukosdualdao]

and if you feel like night is falling, i wanna be the one you're calling

zutara month, day 12: kiss at midnight, @zutaramonth

summary: around midnight, katara realizes zuko has disappeared from his own post-coronation celebration and goes looking for him in the palace gardens.

other notes: yes it's another secret relationship fic god bless <3 it's still very New though, and this fic might be better titled Zutara Having The Relationship Talk. as it stands, the title are lyrics from someone to you by banners.

"What are you doing out here?" Katara asks as she finishes traversing the path to the palace gardens where Zuko stands. Between his thumb and the forefinger of his right hand, he is holding a pale pink petal. After months of seeing him in his casual dayrobes, finely made and threaded with traces of gold but looser, more casual, and worn over time due to their travels and battles, it's strange to see him in his Fire Lord regalia, especially with his hair pulled back into a top knot. She's gotten used to not just looking, but placing her hands against the soft, worn fabric of his shirts as they kiss in stolen moments, and to constantly pushing that wild hair out from his eyes before glancing around to see if anyone caught the too-intimate gesture.

It's not a bad look on him—nothing would be—but it is taking some getting used to.

"It's cold, you know." It is, surprisingly—colder than she thought it could in the heart of the Fire Nation, but then, it's nearing the end of the summer, and it's nearly midnight at that. It's strange for Zuko to be out here, too. "Are you alright?"

It's almost strange to look at him as it is strange to be wearing the clothes she's in, formal dress robes in the cut and style of the Fire Nation, yet in a grey-blue shade that reminds of her father's old whetstone.

Somewhere inside, her father and her brother and her friends are still laughing and eating and celebrating in the wake of Zuko's coronation. Soon, there will be much different trials to bear—Katara's dreamt bout the end of this war for as long as she could dream, but now more than ever, she knows that just because Ozai's been defeated, that doesn't mean the aftermath will be easy.

Katara wonders if that's what's on Zuko's mind.

She wonders a lot of things. Like how this... thing between them will work, now that the war's won. If it will at all.

"I just needed space for a minute," Zuko says, turning to her, lip half-quirked. "All of the... people, and everything, it was just a lot. Everything's fine."

"I can go," Katara offers, feeling sympathetic. She's not as introverted by nature as he seems to be, doesn't get as overwhelmed, but she definitely has moments when she just needs to be by herself. She doesn't want to leave, but she will if he asks it of her.

Zuko's smile grows, and he shakes his head. "That's not—I don't need space from you," he promises.

Brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, Katara laughs a little. "I don't count?"

"No," he says bluntly, looking her straight in the eyes as he does. "I always want you around."

Katara's breath catches. He has this charming, ridiculous, earnest way of saying things that always manages to catch her off-guard. And like a dam that breaks, Katara is taking one long stride after another to reach him. When she does, he drops his hand from where it had been holding the flower and places it on the small of her waist, gasping as she kisses him with urgency, rubbing small circles against the fabric of her dress with his thumb.

Katara pulls back, remembering he's still injured when he makes a small wounded noise—there are bandages underneath those fine robes he now wears—"Are you alright? Did I hurt you?" Her hands hover by his sides as she scans his body up and down.

"I'm fine," he insists, eyes sparkling. "Come back?"

Katara huffs but relents for a moment, placing another gentle kiss against his lips. The touch warms her up from the inside out.

"We really need to figure out what we're going to tell the others," Zuko says after a moment. "About us, I mean."

It's going to be an awkward conversation for more reasons than one: Toph will gloat and make constant jokes, Sokka will be happy only after he's been ridiculously overprotective (which Suki, probably her most reliable ally in this, will point out to him), she has no idea what her father will say, and Aang...

She knows he'll be hurt. That might be better as a private conversation.

Still, despite herself, Katara lights up a little. He's thinking about this long-term. "There's an 'us' to tell them about?"

Zuko exhales something that's almost a laugh and leans forward to gentle a hand against her cheek. She blinks up at him.

"There's an 'us' for me," he promises, his eyes shining with affection, "if there's an 'us' for you."

Katara has to kiss him again, then. It would go against the laws of nature not to, she's pretty sure.

They can figure out the rest of it later.

[waitineedaname]

when thinking about scar and mei's dynamic, I love thinking about why he becomes so attached to her. it's not just a parental instinct, it's specifically identifying with her struggles. the chang clan is small and has little political power compared to the more dominant clans in xing, and it's a struggle just to survive. even though it's not exactly the same, there's this feeling of solidarity between scar and mei because they're both disenfranchised within their respective countries. the sympathy mei describes when she found xiao-mei is what scar feels towards mei, seeing something of themselves in the other and taking pity on them

and there's this other element to him helping her find xiao-mei, and I might be misremembering, but I'm fairly certain it's the first deviation from his revenge based quest. so far, every time we've seen him, he's either been attacking state alchemists, going somewhere to find a state alchemist, or recovering from his injuries. he is very driven when it comes to his goals, but he sees this little girl crying because she is all alone in a foreign country on a desperate quest to save her people and she's just lost the only family she has with her, and he decides to help her. he didn't have to do that, he could have just ignored her or insisted on moving on, but he is not heartless or cruel, he is a compassionate person underneath all the pain, so he goes out of his way to help this little girl find her panda

no wonder mei is constantly reiterating to other people that scar is a good person

[justallihere]

I think a lot about Xaden’s “it’s a damned good thing you love me too, because you’re stuck with me in this life and every other that could possibly follow” line

[acewithapaintbrush]

Splinter remembers the day like it was yesterday. Despite his best efforts to drown out the memories with cheap booze, unhealthy snacks and mindless TV-shows 24/7, he remembers every single detail of the moment Lou Jitsu ceased to exist and became… this. 

The noise of a machine powering up. The light of electricity coursing through his body. The feeling of an otherworldly substance on his skin and the pain of every molecule rearranging itself in his body. 

The memories are fresh, like a wound that refuses to heal. He has learned over the years to accept his new existence and he has even realized that, in a twisted way, he can even be grateful for everything that's happened. Without the noise and the light and the pain he also wouldn't have his pride and joy, his beloved sons. 

Splinter knows all that and he does his best to remind himself of it all, but sometimes the memories will still be too much. Too overpowering. Sometimes he will sit in his chair and stare at the TV without really seeing it and just drift in an endless sea of regret and bitterness so strong he can taste it on his tongue. 

But the fact that he does remember that day so well has actually also been his salvation more than once. Because when the noise and the light and the pain get to be too much, he also remembers what came after. 

Four little turtles, now strangely humanoid, rolling around on the floor. And some weird instinct (Survival? Parental?) urging him forward to scoop them up into his hands. 

And he remembers them tumbling around in his palms. And he remembers the red-eared slider looking at him and immediately holding his tiny arms out with the biggest smile. 

Leonardo. 

Leonardo reaching out to him. Already trusting, already more happy to see Yoshi than any of his prior acquaintances had ever been. 

Leonardo had reached for him first and it's that image that pulls Splinter back from the edge most nights. If Splinter had any recollection of Leo claiming that he was his "least favorite", he might have laughed. Or cried. 

Nothing could be further from the truth. 

And now he is kneeling here, on this cold concrete, and stares at a sky awash in unnatural colors. A portal has just closed and his son is on the wrong side of it. Has sacrificed himself to save them all. 

And Splinter reaches up. Ignores the noise and the light and the pain, and reaches his arms into the sky, hoping against hope that his son will reach back. That those arms will reach for him once more. That he can pull him out, just like his son has pulled him out of the deepest pits of despair over the years. 

But the portal is closed.

He can't reach him.

********

An hour later, April, Casey and him finally find his sons, and for a moment Splinter is convinced that his mind is finally broken beyond repair. Because right there, in the middle of a group hug, is Leonardo. Bruised and bloody and tired. 

But alive. And here. 

He stops in his tracks while April and Casey run forward, questions falling from their lips almost as rapid as the tears are falling from their eyes. 

Splinter doesn't hear a word of mystic powers and portals and last minute rescues. He can only stare at the child he had thought to have lost forever. 

Said child looks up and for a second something vulnerable flashes through his eyes as they find his frozen father. But then it's gone and he grins. "Hey Pops!" 

And he holds out one arm, the other still trapped by a silently weeping Casey. His hand shakes a little and the grabby motions of his fingers look more desperate than they are probably meant to be. 

But they are familiar and they are something Splinter was convinced he would never see again. 

He finally moves, rushes forward on shaking legs to the hand that is once again reaching out to him. He grabs it and bends down, his forehead pressed against their joined hands. 

"I got you.", he whispers, over and over. "I got you. I got you." 

His son has once again reached out first. 

And Splinter is never letting go again. 

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It always struck me as significant how the others are just tumbling around but Leo immediately makes eye contact and holds out his hands as if to say "Ohhh new Papa, hello there!"

[delta-piscium]

@steddie-week day 1: Hunger | 1.1k words cw: light angst in that Steve is a little sad/dealing with some mental stuff but like hurt/comfort (not EDs which mental stuff combined with the prompt word might make it seem like, hunger is used as a metaphor)

Sometimes Steve doesn’t talk to anyone for days. He just shuts himself in his room and hides, barely leaves his bed. Pretends he doesn’t exist, or that time has stopped and he’s the only thing that exists.

Sometimes, he’ll go back too soon, feel bad for the ignored calls and drag himself out of bed to see the people who matter most to him. But it won’t feel warm and soft those times. He’ll be too raw and It’ll feel like they’re grabbing his insides and eating them. Pulling his heart and brain out of his body and devouring them without letting him eat theirs in return. 

Usually, he’s okay with that. He knows his place, he knows that’s what he’s for. For other people to get fed. And he’s happy to feed, to do that for them. 

He loves them, of course he’s gonna give himself over. It’s just that sometimes they take too much. They don’t know they do he thinks, they don’t know they’re eating him alive. That he’s presenting himself on a silver platter and letting them take take take, and that sometimes they take too much.

That’s why he disappears, so he can grow back. So he can give more. Because if he stops giving he's afraid they’ll get tired. He won’t be useful, he can’t give when he’s like that. He starts craving, he starts wanting. He feels starved and wants to take and feed too, and that’s not part of the deal. He’s not supposed to eat, he’s supposed to be eaten. So when he turns hungry and ravenous he hides, he isolates. 

Robin is the only one who truly gets this about him, who doesn’t take and demand. She gently accepts the things he gives and never without giving too, forcing him to stay whole. It’s overwhelming and sometimes he has to hide from that too, he doesn’t know how to deal with the force of it. He’s so used to the constant hunger it’s a shock when it’s gone but he’s gotten better. And anyway, he and Robin are part of one whole so whatever is given or taken between them is never really gone. It stays with both of them.

Robin is the only one, or she was the only one he should say. Because now there’s Eddie. Eddie who gives and gives and gives, almost as much as he does. But who doesn’t seem to dwindle and dim like Steve does. Who doesn’t seem to starve or hunger. Eddie who notices when Steve does, when he stumbles and gets greedy. Who holds him up and makes him whole with a look, a touch, a word. 

Eddie who breaks in through his window when he shuts himself in his big empty house and lays with him in his bed, softly telling Steve stories and running his fingers through his hair. 

It’s wonderful.

It's the worst. 

“I’m afraid you’re gonna end up as empty as me,” Steve tells him, whispers it into the dark. “That you’re here now and you’re giving and I’m taking and you’re gonna be the one left with nothing.” 

Eddie doesn’t respond immediately but hums in acknowledgment, lets him know he heard and is thinking. 

“This is good for me too,” he says eventually, “being with you and resting. Getting to be here for you when you never used to let anyone but Robin be. It’s good for me too.” 

“It can be good and still drain you.” Says Steve, knows it to be true. He doesn’t resent giving the way he does, he loves it, it’s good. It drains him. 

“Yeah,” Eddie agrees, “this doesn’t drain me, you’re comforting me too. It’s balanced.” 

Balanced. That’s what Robin tells him too. That’s what Nancy sometimes asked him for when they dated and he couldn’t let her see the cracks. That’s what he wonders about with his other friends. 

He doesn’t usually know how to do that. He doesn’t know where the lines are. He doesn’t understand how Eddie knows. 

“You let me give, and I let you give, so it’s balanced. We don’t take from each other, we gift and we receive. It’s balanced. You have to let other people give sometimes too, Steve.” 

It hits something deep in him, the last words. He knows this, he doesn’t want to know it. 

“I’m afraid they won’t. if I open myself up to it. If I ask, I’m afraid they won’t.” He says it so quietly it’s almost inaudible but Eddie hears. 

His hands still in Steve’s hair for a moment before moving again, gently scratching his scalp. 

“I know baby. But that’s not fair, they want to give too. If they knew how much they took without giving back they’d be heartbroken. It’s not fair to you or them.” 

Steve lets Eddies words wash over him, he knows he’s right. They’d be nauseous with it. His sweet wonderful friends and family would be crushed.

“Sometimes it will happen, maybe,” Eddie continues when Steve doesn’t respond beyond a sharp breath in. “Sometimes people won’t know how to give after only getting but you gotta let them try. Sometimes they’ll learn and adjust, sometimes they won’t and you’ll have to deal with that. But you can’t starve yourself like this because you won’t let them try.” 

"What if I take too much?"

"Then they talk to you, like you should talk to them."

“When did you get so wise,” Steve snorts, his voice is tight but he makes the effort, tries to lighten the mood. Deflects, like he always does. 

Eddie lets him, a little, knows Steve has to. But he’s still serious when he answers.

“Wayne is like a never-ending well of insight and digging around in everything, never lets me get away with shit.” 

The opposite of Steve’s parents who were the first to take from him and never give, never look into his eyes and tell him to eat. 

“He’s a good guy,” Steve tells Eddie instead of weighing him down more than he already has. Instead of acknowledging and relieving the hunger pang that strikes him at the thought. Even now, here, he doesn’t know how. 

“Yeah,” Eddie agrees. “I’m here to relay his wisdom, like playing telephone with whatever stuff he teaches me. The things your parents took away from you.”

Eddie still knows, of course, he does. He always knows.

“And what do you get?” Steve has to ask.

“I get you. I get everything.”

Steve smiles, turns around to kiss Eddie. He doesn’t feel empty when Eddie kisses him back, hungry. When he takes and devours.