#those posts really struck a chord with me

[199degrees]

people will be "okay" with and "support" bisexuality until a bi girl is with a man and suddenly they're not bi enough or they're actually straight and say they're bi for attention...okay worms for brains 🙄😒

[skyboxing]

i wonder if pete wentz ever gets writers block with lyrics and calls up mikey way like “hey dude can you like, lead me on a little bit? i need some new material. thanks.”

[copperbadge]

I was making breakfast and listening to an episode of Just King Things this morning, which is a podcast I do recommend -- two very smart English teachers are reading the books of Stephen King in publication order and discussing them. This could go extremely awry except they're both highly conscious of his failings as well as his skill, so they do really well handling a lot of his less salutatory content.

They've hit the point in King's ouvre (this episode was about Hearts In Atlantis) that follows his recovery from the car accident that very nearly killed him, where he was struck by a van while out walking. One of them pointed out that it seems as though he came back from nearly dying determined to write the wildest shit imaginable and only write what he wanted, which struck a chord in me this time despite having listened to this episode before. Perhaps because I was thinking about my own writing and where it's going in the short term (there are a couple of short stories I want to do that I don't quite have a way into yet). I generally don't think about the drift of my creativity in the long term because when I do I usually draw the wrong conclusions.

I don't really classify my life, the way some people who've had high-impact injuries do, as before-TBI and after-TBI (Traumatic Brain Injury -- the fairly severe concussion I had in January of 2020). For one thing, given I had to cancel a trip to NYC because of it, it may have saved my life; I almost certainly would have caught COVID as someone with known lung issues in New York at the time. For another, the TBI was way scarier to almost everyone else; for me it was just one more dumb injury I gave myself and I didn't even remember most of it so it hardly registered. I used to open the story of it with a joke about waking up not remembering going to bed the night before, but nobody ever found it funny.

It's true that there are changes it wrought in my life, though. Even practical stuff like making sure my living space doesn't have tripping hazards and continuing to wear a fitbit even though I don't really need to (the fitbit told us, the morning after, exactly when the concussion happened, because it registered a heart-rate spike when I fell). For weeks after, I had to move slowly and put off making important decisions because I couldn't trust my physical or intellectual judgement; I didn't even jaywalk in my own neighborhood because I couldn't be sure I was judging the cars' speeds properly. For about a year after I had periodic post-concussion syndrome which basically just slammed me back into concussion space, which wasn't painful or upsetting but was definitely inconvenient.

And it's also undeniable that my writing shifted after the injury. It's not necessarily because of the injury, since my initial recovery from the TBI and the declaration of quarantine happened at roughly the same time, and anyone who tells you that a years-long global pandemic didn't impact their artistic expression is selling you a line. But the last thing I wrote before the TBI was the first draft of Six Harvests, and aside from the Six Harvests publication draft, which had fairly minimal changes, almost all that I've written has been blue-sky, light-hearted, PG-rated romance. It's been on my mind that I've been writing different subject matter from what I used to, but the timing of it didn't strike me until just recently.

I don't mind, really. I love fandom and I support fanfic in whatever expression it comes, but I'm also happy writing my own stories. While I'm aware it's been years since I've meaningfully written fanfic, it doesn't bother me per se, as long as I'm writing. It bothered me much more when I could write fanfic but not original fic, especially in those last few awful months at my last job. I'm proud of the literary and non-genre fiction I've written in the past, but it's also much more trying and frustrating to write at times, so I'm enjoying having a different sort of challenge that feels more fulfilling in the process. I'm sure at some point I'll go back to literary fiction -- there are ways in which it's hard to avoid turning the later Shivadh novels into literary fiction, being honest -- but for now I like what I'm writing, and I'm writing primarily to please myself and without regard to what's necessarily rational or linear.

Just struck me, is all, that it's by far the most noticeable major shift in my work. I do sort of wonder what will be next.

[kittencomicslol]

Gyutaro x Artist but gyutaro is their Main Muse and they just lobe drawing or sketching him!

Gyutaro x Artist! Reader headcanons :3

______

LOVEEEE THIS IDEA UGHHH I LOVE DRAWING HIM SO BAD HE IS SO COOL AND BEAUTIFUL ❤️❤️❤️

His body is so so cool and I love drawing it and writing about it gyah he’s so cool.. you will definitely hear my rambles and interest in his funky little critter body in this.

Only possible tw would be Gyutaro struggling w why anyone would find him pretty but that’s a given so yah

I’m so sorry this took me a long time to put out, I know I say this like every blue moon I post but my life is fr crazy 😭 it’s getting better tho. I just do these for fun and comfort and i appreciate prompts/requests for when I’m in the need to relax and write about my favorite little guy

•Gyutaro has not a single clue why you seem to be so infatuated with creating art of specifically him

“The entertainment district has so many unique pretty people in it, those who are leaps and bounds more handsome than he is. So why him?

•At first he was even angry to think you would try to gaze upon him in an artistic light before anyone else. He was hideous, he didn’t deserve to be drawn or painted.

•But you didn’t seem to think so

•He would never admit it and prefer to only display his annoyance, but he really was flattered the first few times.

•When you asked to draw him he laughed, because why would you want to do such a thing? He thought you were joking. You were in the entertainment district, a place with some of the most beautiful people in all of Japan!

•But yet.. you insisted on doting upon his hideous form and praising his appearance. showering him with gifts from your natural talent of creativity and your dedication to craft.

•Of course he was envious at first.. of course you were talented. beautiful, nice, and talented. He hated all of those things.

•But he didn’t hate you.

•Gyutaro would unconsciously be annoyed due to thinking your artistic ability is natural born talent. It wasn’t fair how so many humans were blessed with those gifts while he himself seemed to only be cursed with suffering and imperfections.

•Though, after watching you work and create so many different pieces even he himself was able to notice how subtly you improved or when you messed up.

•And of course he noticed because no matter if he would express it or not at first, he adored you making art of him.

•Gyutaro was naturally a very attentive demon. The man grew up on the streets racked with danger and disease. Such living conditions were a constant battle to survive and in order to do so, he needed to be aware of his surroundings.

•His nature to pick up on smaller things only intensified when Ume was born because now he was watching over her, and he deemed her life as bounds more valuable than his own.

•He loved seeing you fail or mess up at your art.. and it wasn’t in an exactly sadistic or crude way like he would feel when seeing others fail. With you, it felt like he was watching you learn and grow. He was witnessing your failure and proof that your talent wasn’t natural, You had to work for it. And something about that struck a chord in him.

•Embarrassment was always a very common emotion for him to express when you asked for a better look at him.

•’I want to see your back better, I need to see the way your spine curves.’

•‘Let me see you up close so I can get your birthmarks right’

•‘Can you show me your hand?’

•Every single little question you asked always gave him butterflies, both from nerves and him becoming flustered.

•But over time as you two bonded; he became much more comfortable with sharing his body with you.

•His small crude comments about how ‘pointless’ your art of him was gradually turned into quiet mumbles of appreciation or gentle praise.

•Sometimes, if you get lucky he will allow you to touch him. Trailing your hand down his odd protruding spine, or delicately brushing your fingers over his ribs that were barely covered by his skin.

•One time he even let you feel his stomach.. if you could even call it that, and where his abs were just to see how his strange anatomy worked. That interaction didn’t last for long as he got far too flustered and anxious to let you continue, but it was still fascinating nonetheless.

•Gyutaro was almost constantly put off but your compliments about the parts of his body he hated the most.

•His disgusting marks? They were pretty, and looked like paint on a canvas to you.

•His visible ribs? They were unique, a wonderful oddity.

•His crooked spine? One of your ‘favorite parts’ of him to draw

•His bloodshot down turned eyes? They looked like gemstones to you, sparkled like the stars.

•It was like any aspect he found repulsive about himself, you saw it the exact opposite.

•There was one small interaction Gyutaro didn’t think he would ever forget, something that touched him in a way he had never felt before

•It was common for you to show Gyutaro new drawings you made of him.. working as Daki’s artist you only had so much time to ever gift him with full pieces.

•Not that he cared, at this point if you gave him a stick figure and said it was him he would be grateful you even thought of him.

•Perhaps that was only because of your close bond.. if another human did that things probably wouldn’t go so sweetly.

•He wished he had a better place to keep such cherished things though all he had was the little cave where him and Daki stored food and skeletons.

•Nevertheless, you liked to doodle him a lot in quick sketches that you almost always displayed to him. Usually you came to sit with him when you would draw him to get reference for something about his ghoulish unnatural form, especially for his birthmarks. He had so many he was used to you coming in with near finished drawings that still needed reference for where his spots were.

•Eventually, you stopped asking for such things and it almost made him sad. Did you just loose interest?.. he wouldn’t blame you, he was hideous.

•Of course that was him being overly negative and unrealistic. You still frequently showed him art you created of him, so he had no reason to think that. But he usually wasn’t very logical when it came to thoughts about his own body..

•One night the two of you ended up in the same room together for a while, Gyutaro glancing over to you for a moment..

•”(Y/N)..”

•He croaked out your name in his broken voice that you never seemed to comment on. Almost instantly you raised your head and turned all of your attention onto Gyutaro

•“Hm?”

*The demon let out a small huff. He felt pathetic asking something like this. He was an upper moon demon, he shouldn’t care.

•“Why did.. why did you stop visiting me whenever you draw?”

• he forced out, letting out a small sigh as soon as he did. He had to use restraint to hold himself back from hiding his face in his palms

•But instead of ignoring him or saying you got sick of looking at his ugly face, you chuckled.

•”Taro, I’ve drawn you so many times I already know what you look like. I even have your marks memorized.”

•He went quiet, his face flushing a crimson hue from your response. There was just.. no way. You couldn’t be real. What had he done to deserve you?..

•”Oh..”

•Was all he was able to manage out, too flustered and dumbfounded to come up with a proper response.

•If he wasn’t in love with you enough before, he was far past head over heels by now.

•The concept of abstract art interested him as well, and he would always be very grateful whenever you would explain how some people found deep interest in things that looked.. less than appealing.

•One of Gyutaro’s favorite small details he always picked up on was in your doodles of him.

•Sometimes you liked to add something extra onto your work to make it more lively, and whenever you did that with him it would always be little hearts around him.

•Things so small yet so meaningful were things he had always loved, and this was definitely no exception.

•When you displayed your art to others you could never exactly display him.. though you sometimes added little details that you knew he would notice

•Little black splotches around the canvas akin to his marks, small Kanji for the number six sometimes appearing.

•He knew you couldn’t exactly ‘show him off’ and he knew you probably wouldn’t want to if you could.. but even so, seeing you do something that still counted as showing him off meant a lot.

•Even if nobody else noticed or knew, he did.

•He noticed all of the little details, the stray lines, the mistakes. Every little thing about your art he adored

•The same way he adored you.

————

WAAA!! I wrote most of this months ago at like 12AM and I am astounded that it actually held up and I didn’t have to completly re-write it. Just finished it up

[sarahreesbrennan]

sorry if you have already answered this, but are we getting any queer rep in Long Live Evil? 💕 i am super excited to see what you've cooked up for us either way!

I came back after I'd gone off on one, seeing the post had struck a chord and being thankful but fearful of my inbox. Let me say with delighted surprise that all the asks are very kind.

Thank you for this one, sweet anon. I am so excited and so nervous about my best beloved, Long Live Evil, and about coming back with a new book of my own after so long, when I believed for a long time it was hopeless.

I'm really grateful to find readers waiting for me. But I know readers are naturally more invested in characters they know: I extremely appreciate you taking an interest in the future.

So, short answer: YEAH you are!

Long answer: Long Live Evil wouldn't exist without its queer narratives.

C.S. Pacat and I were talking in our virtual Brookline Booksmith event recently about our favourite Disney villains. C.S. Pacat picked Maleficent, a fine choice. I picked Snow White's Evil Queen. We agreed we loved most of them.

Here's the relevant excerpt I was quoting in my last post from Carmen Maria Machado's In The Dream House, saying 'I think a lot about queer villains, the problem and pleasure and audacity of them.' Well... me too.

I think many of us have experienced feeling made wrong in some way - for not wanting what society said we should or being what we were expected to be - and that one step along that journey of discovery is going 'Okay, if it's wicked, I'll just BE wicked.' And that's part of why those characters appeal - because they seem free, and free of pain.

But modern storytelling isn't confined to coding, and audiences can now feel free to expect, not the certainty, but the possibility characters who aren't introduced as such still might actually turn out to be LGBT+. The essays I've read about Supernatural, Teen Wolf, Sherlock, Ted Lasso, Fox 9-1-1... I think the latest argued Jaime Lannister was bisexual. (Pretty persuasive.)

I remember reading the Raven Cycle going 'oh? OH.' I remember being at a writing retreat in 2013 and running through the halls screaming about Nico diAngelo. Ten years later we got a Nico diAngelo book co-written by Rick Riordan and the amazing Mark Oshiro. I watched Red, White and Royal Blue with a friend and she said 'honestly I hope the guys get together, but...' and I (having read the book) silenced myself with a herculean effort and watched her hopes come true. I didn't know about The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo and almost dropped the book in a swimming pool. But I've also read and watched many things thinking, just maybe... oh, no. Still that hope existing is meaningful, the thought that if the story had gone differently, if this revelation had happened, if this realisation had happened, if, if, if...

Long Live Evil is a story about the story going differently and asking yourself questions about your own nature, and the escape to fiction of those who really need escape. The book is based on that 'if,' and the 'if' itself is joyous, and brings me back to the idea of gleefully transgressing the narrative that much villain love is based on.

It's also an ensemble story with a rogue's gallery of characters and multiple PoVs. (I was much inspired by the Six of Crows ensemble.) So it isn't about any one character's romance, and by the book's nature there exist many possibilities. A critique partner read and said 'I didn't know you were going THERE' and I responded 'Should I?'

I've never been one to confirm where stories are going, and I won't do so now. I'm not talking about any one character or telling you a direction.

I'm just saying yes to rep. It's baked in.

[proton-selfships]

So I just read this great post by @kittyandco and it struck a really, really deep chord with me as someone who was also in the selfship community in ye olden days (as in, pre-pandemic olden days).

Now, don't get me wrong, those days weren't perfect either. I still experienced hostility for little reason, and it still hurts me to think about and affects my ability to trust people to this day. And I sure as hell wasn't the only one, or the one who had it the worst. But that lack of good faith that used to be the exception really does feel like the norm now, and it makes interacting way more stressful than it ever was back then. You're expected to read novella-length DNIs and can't interact with or follow anyone without fearing that you missed one of your fandoms on their DNI list and will get shit for it.

(And those pages are often confusing to navigate and use hard-to-read colors, to boot. Seriously, the Web Content Accessibility Guidelines should be mandatory reading for anyone making a Carrd or Rentry account)

And that's not even to mention the fear of what you say to someone in a private conversation getting twisted and shared and vagueposted about without your permission. That's something I've witnessed happen to multiple friends of mine. Again, isolated incidents back then, way more common than it should be now.

Meanwhile, *old woman voice* back in my day... What I always think back to was the really popular ask game that would go around, where you could ask whoever reblogged it to come up with headcanons for your F/Os. And people were sending each other asks left and right! People were excited to look up F/Os they'd never heard of to come up with a little pick-me-up for the person in their ask box! And I remember them being a blast to read and write!

Nowadays? If your F/Os are from sources that's not in the media zeitgeist or another limited set of perennial sources people will generally know enough to engage with... Good luck getting anyone to talk to you. (And that definitely goes double for anyone who ships with characters who aren't white men or isn't white themselves, that's a whole other issue that I've definitely experienced as a lesbian.)

I think it's both the growing atmosphere of hostility and social media in general's growing focus on "making content" and "branding" that keeps people from reaching out to each other unless they ship the same kinds of things they do. It's not really a community anymore. And that sucks, because that's a problem that's infected selfship spaces from the social media landscape as a whole

But I think we could still make the choice to see each other as people. Because, at the end of the day, selfshippers don't really have anywhere else to go. We're all just a bunch of people who carry love for characters in our hearts. Shouldn't we be willing to extend that love to each other, too?

(Obviously, this comes with caveats. I don't know if this is just me and my friends, but it also feels like we're all just too tired nowadays to reach out or meaningfully engage with other shippers' work. I'm definitely guilty of going MIA for long periods for that reason, so I'm not going to act like the lack of interaction with my blog specifically isn't my fault there. But in my experience I've seen a lot of that exhaustion come from this, from the walking on eggshells and the lack of reciprocity of the energy you put in, so it all still applies)

[guppybibi]

It's Showbiz, Baby.

𖦹 pairing: Kita Shinsuke x fem!reader

𖦹 word count: 2460

𖦹 content: shinsuke is in deep denial, slowburn…very slowburn. hints(?) of body image issues and eating disorders. shinsuke is insanely oblivious. mild cursing.

𖦹 notes: a lot of the farming terms are from google…i i dont know how it works. Also just posted it on my AO3 ! (hearts4abbie). I apologize for any misinformation about the topics here, all of these are from google. next one is them having a silly 'date' tee hee:p

✧. ┊    Part 1 ┊ Part 2

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

It was the break of dawn, and Shinsuke was already up and about in the fields; sleep was still in his system. He yawns as he tends to his rice grains, spraying on some fertilizer to increase the yield. Adjusting his hat that keeps him cool while under the sun, he yawns while intently watching the sky as he waits for the sun to rise. To his own surprise, he was met with a light tap on his back which obscurely startled him. His body instinctively does a little jump, yet his face said otherwise as it was still the same as before. Turning around to see who it was, expecting it to be his family. You were standing right before him in humble clothing, one wouldn’t think of you as a viral sensation with how you looked like right now. Shinsuke mentally shook his head, he shouldn’t stereotype that all celebrities prance around in designer clothing..

“Um..Shinsuke, right? Can I ask you something?” You asked in a rather meek tone which Shin didn’t really expect, sure he had already met you yesterday but he couldn’t just automatically assume how a person acted based off of one single interaction. He won’t lie, he has watched multiple of your movies with his sister and you coincidentally played all of the roles that required you to be rude and mean. He just..expected you to act that way in real life as well since you were so good at playing those types of roles. It was like you were meant to be playing the role of an antagonist in every movie you star in, yet the figure in front of him tells him a completely different story. “Yes, what do you need Ms.- um..Y/N.'' He curses himself in his head when he slips up, he had permission from her to address her casually; after all they seemed to be about the same age as each other. “Well I’m sorry for bothering you if I did but I heard there’s a plaza nearby? Do you know the directions to it?” You ask, fiddling with your hair as you anticipate his answer.

“The plaza..? Well I’m not so sure which plaza you’re referring to but the nearest one here is about an hour away..” He replies and gets a disappointed look in return, hearing you mutter an “oh..”. The air of dismay surrounding you struck something in him, he wasn’t sure he knew what it was but he couldn’t stand seeing you feel that way. He assumes it’s just his hospitable nature striking a chord in his system, a lady was in need of help; his client out of all people so he needed to help. “I’m actually stopping by there later this afternoon to drop off some deliveries, maybe you could tag along?” He offers, quickly catching your attention. “I’d love to! Thank you so much, I’ll pay you-""No need to pay me with money, I don’t need it.” He bites his tongue to stop himself from offering her to help her around the farm or cleaning his home, remembering that she was a guest and a celebrity. He shouldn’t let her lift a finger, she was here to relax; not to scrub the floors of their porch. Though you notice he was about to say something, urging him to continue. Humans had the right to speak after all! Unless he was an alien–no that was stupid..You couldn’t help but visualize him as an alien though..”No no! Go on, I’m not that sensitive. I’m sure I can handle whatever you were going to say.” You insist, the white haired man still looking unsure. “I..Maybe you could help with scrubbing the floors..?” He suggests, his voice barely audible as he tries to avoid your gaze. “That’s it?” You question, tilting your head to the side.

Shinsuke looks at you, raising another thin little brow. You spoke of the chore like it wasn’t a laborious task, sure it wasn’t the hardest one but it still required a good amount of effort. “You don’t really need to-” “No! I- I mean, I’ll do it!” Shinsuke knew that he had no place to argue back, whenever he had disagreements with women he always somehow managed to lose. Whether it be with his grandma or sister, it seems like it hasn’t changed until now. “Alright, I’ll take the silence as a yes. When do I start?” You ask, looking oddly excited to do such a chore. Shinsuke thinks about how his whole family is still asleep right now, not to be awake in a few hours or so. It would be best if she started while his sister was asleep so she doesn’t go batshit crazy when she sees her idol scrubbing the floors of her home. “If it’s okay with you, you can start now. When you’re finished, come back to me.” He instructs while you nod in agreement.

“The things you need are in the closet over there, thank you. If you don’t want to do it, you can always stop whenever.” “I’m not made out of glass, I can scrub a few floors here and there! I’ll be back.” Then you set off, Shinsuke could see your figure from afar–on your knees as you cleaned the floors. He can imagine his dear grandma scolding him for making a guest such as her clean their home. Eventually, you finish the task given to you; putting away all the supplies you used and proudly standing before the now squeaky floors. Looking over to the field, you see that Shinsuke was already pretty far. Running over to him, following his instructions earlier; you weren’t so sure if you were panting because you’ve been running too quickly for a while now or if your body is just tired from the task you just did. You always felt tired, you didn’t know why. Everyday you just felt so low on energy, like you were about to collapse and fall asleep. It never really worried you, you weren’t a sickly person–even as a child.

You stop in your tracks once you reach Shinsuke, who is still doing farm work. Hands on your knees and sweat beading on your forehead as you pant, you looked like you ran a marathon. A concerned expression arises on his face, about to reach out to help you before you start waving your hands. “I-I’m alright! I finished scrubbing the floors, they’re squeaky clean!” You babble, hands on your hips as you finally managed to lift your body up. “Um..alright, thank you Y/N. I’m actually about to finish up so we can have breakfast together? It’s 7AM already, unless you’ve already had your fill before coming up to me earlier?” Have you eaten yet? You don’t really remember, it’s not like you keep track of everything you do daily. You shook your head no, feeling your stomach grumble at the idea of food. You blush as you hear your tummy growl, wanting to shame your own belly from loudly announcing your hunger in front of your acquaintance. Shinsuke just smiles though, almost identical to the one his grandma always has. He doesn’t really notice the sounds of your stomach, not that he cares–it wasn’t any of his business. “Very well, come with me. I’ll just reheat some of the rice porridge we had last night, if that’s fine with you?” Rice porridge..It sounded nice, considering that the rice was made by them; a bunch of well trusted rice farmers–it must’ve been good. Yet the next words you blurted out next were quite different from what was on your mind. “How many calories does that have again?” You swore you sounded like a crazy health nut just now, realizing that it may have been interpreted as something rude. “It’s about 80 calories, I don’t see why it matters-” Stopping himself yet again, something felt weird..Shinsuke has never doubted himself, never. So why does he feel like he’s walking on eggshells when he’s around you?

Is it because you’re a literal leading light in the entertainment industry and could quickly trash his whole family’s name with a snap of a finger? No, with how you’ve acted so far; he can safely assume you wouldn’t do that over something so simple. However there really is something churning in the bottom of his stomach, you didn’t seem right to him. “80 calories huh..Well since I’m on vacation, I should treat myself to a good meal!” You mumble to yourself, shrugging as you watch and follow Shinsuke while you both trek back to his family home. You were honestly pretty surprised how welcoming he has been so far, is this how all province folk are? Wondering if his family was the same and that Shinsuke wasn’t an exception. You might as well move right here, this instant! “After you,” The bicolored man spoke, sliding the wooden door open carefully so as to not wake up his still sleeping family. Looking around his home as you step in, awe fills you once you see the traditional interior of the home. It felt strangely comforting, nothing you’ve ever felt even when staying at the grandest mansions back in the city. Everything truly has its own charm..”Make yourself at home, I’ll just heat up the food.” As Shinsuke excuses himself out of the room, while he heats up the food; the feeling in his stomach wouldn’t go away. Perhaps it was just hunger, it must’ve been.

He’s never felt this way in a rather long time, the feeling has a similar tinge to when he was looking after his volleyball team way back. Watching over them like a proud father, feeling obliged to take them under his wing. Or the first time he saw his little brother, light shining on the swaddled baby as Shinsuke thanked the Gods above them. Care. That was what he felt. But why did he care about you? You were a mere client to him, ones he came across with everyday. What exactly made you different? He just couldn’t put a finger on it..He decides that he’ll soon do what he thinks is best, questioning his family about it.

Having breakfast with you felt natural, chatting about your two contrasting lives surely kept you both entertained as you gulped down the meal. The calming aura surrounding you both that felt just right was disturbed when Kimiko entered the kitchen, still in her pajamas with bed hair as she rubs her eyes open. She stood by the doorway, staring at you; recognizing you almost immediately. It took everything in her not to pounce onto you in excitement, she doesn't even know what to do first–is she still dreaming? She pinches herself, hoping she wasn't in a dream.

“Good morning Kimiko.” Shinsuke greets, interrupting Kimiko’s buzz as he drinks some water. Then you figure it was time for you to greet her as well, it’d be awfully rude not to. “Good morni-” “OH MY GOD! I- And you're having breakfast with my brother!?” She even takes a double take to make sure you were really eating together with her brother and he didn't even bother to tell her! She couldn't believe this, it was practically betrayal! “I’m Kimiko, it's so so so nice to meet you- I’m honored-!” She blurts out, taking your hand and shaking it instinctively. She was in such a thrill she didn't even notice she was crossing your boundaries a little bit.

What she did notice is how bony your hands are, a punch from you would definitely hurt..The inner Kita family hospitality and concern arises in her system, looking down at your linked hands. They were veiny but that was normal, but someone of your age and height shouldn't be this skinny. She slowly sets your hand down, apologizing for her actions. “It's alright, no need to apologize. It's a pleasure meeting you Kimiko, your family has been nothing but great since I got here.” You commented, flashing her one of your signature soft smiles that made everyone melt.

“And, thank you Shinsuke for the meal. I’m going back to my cabin, I’ll get ready for the ride later.” You then excuse yourself and leave the two siblings alone, once Kimiko makes sure you're out of the vicinity she gives her brother a knowing smirk. “A ride, huh? Got a date?” Shinsuke shook his head no, he was just doing you a favor after all. “No, she's going to the plaza so I figured it’d be best if we go together.” He gets a disappointed sigh from Kimiko, huffing as her excitement dies down. “Awh..too bad, I thought my brother actually scored a date with a celebrity!” The bicolored man was unfazed, used to her sister's teasing. Shinsuke never really bothered about his love life, putting his work and family as his top priorities. He knew it was important but he had to set goals first.

“Ya know I got eyes on the back of my head, I know you have a thing for Y/N. To be honest, you really aren't the only one so I’m not surprised. I wouldn't mind her being my sister in law!” Her words made the man think, he simply believed that this was just infatuation. She was a beautiful young woman after all, the whole world was aware of that so it really wouldn't be anything extraordinary. He wasn't one to believe in things such as ‘love in first sight’, those were just things entertainment made up. Kimiko knew what her brother was thinking, annoyed at it..or she's just a ‘little’ bit of a hopeless romantic. “I know you're thinking this is just infatuation again, and I’m not pressuring you to start a thing with her or anything–but if you feel something for her then go for it. Take the chance.” Again, this made Shinsuke think. He knew she was right, still–he never really had the heart to go further as ‘friends’ with the people he met. Not that he was uneducated about it, he was honestly just a busy guy. The part of her being a celebrity set him off a little bit though, her life was far from private and quiet. The complete opposite of what he desired, he felt like it wouldn't work out in the long run. “Um..yes, alright. Though I do believe a ‘crush’ of some sort is formed over time thr-” “Yes yes, we get it! No need to do some rocket science explaining, now go prepare the packages. I’ll have breakfast and clean up.” She cuts him off, pushing him out of their humble family home. Shinsuke grumbles under his breath..

“Maybe for once in my life, the results won't be just a byproduct.”

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

[wen-kexing-apologist]

Top 5 Emotional Outbursts

See if no one else on this website has my back, I know Ben has my back because he is giving me a chance to talk about my boy Patts once more

TOP 5 EMOTIONAL OUTBURSTS OF 2023

Patts, La Pluie

gif by the beautiful, marvelous @liyazaki

Episode 10 was just an absolute masterclass in emotional outbursts. The fight between Lomfon and Patts, then Patts and Tai, then Lomfon and Tien, then Patts and Tai again. Like goddamn, finally thank fuck, Patts is able to let out years worth of frustration and pain at Tai's silence was just so beautiful, and cathartic, and necessary. What an absolutely incredible moment to not only witness but experience. Patts has been so kind, so patient, so forgiving, and it was time for all the pain that he's been letting simmer for two years out. Good! For! Him!

Uea and His Bio Family, Bed Friend

There are few characters in this world I hate more than Uea's mother, and it was so so so so so so wonderful to see Uea finally give her a piece of his mind. I am so proud of him for speaking his mind, standing his ground, and getting the ever living fuck out of his bio family's house. Too personal, sorry, but this fight hit especially well for me because I too have had a parent say they'd live perfectly happily without me, and it was great vindication of my reaction to that to see Uea GTFO immediately after.

Secondarily, James' sobbing screams at the beginning of episode 4 and in the flashback of him getting dragged in to the bathroom when he was an adult have never left my brain. James absolutely crushed those scenes and this was going to be my Bed Friend pick before I remembered this fight exists.

Jim and Li Ming // Heart and His Parents, Moonlight Chicken

I don't think I am exaggerating when I say that Jim and Li Ming's relationship dynamics is one of my favorite of all time. Aof is such an incredible screenwriter/director and I feel like he's able to make such realistic depictions of families in all their complicated glory. The screaming match between Jim and Li Ming is SO good, and really is what solidified my appreciation for Fourth's acting skills because there was a fucking storm cloud on his brow. Happy fucking birthday to you Uncle Jim I guess. Poor fucker.

And then of course, one of the first ever posts I made in the BL Sphere of tumblr was a full essay on Heart's confrontation which I loved so motherfucking much. Once again a much needed fight with lots of interesting, complicated emotions flying around the room.

Kiyoi and Hira, Utsukushii Kare Season 2

gif by @itsallaboutbl

"I'm sorry that I like you" one of the best moments of the year for me by far. This fight between Kiyoi and Hira was desperately, and I mean desperately needed. I know changing will be a slow process for the two of them, and even in Eternal they are no where near where they need to be, but Hira needs/needed to cut this Pebble to a God bullshit out and I am so glad that Kiyoi was able to call him on it. Also from a performance standpoint, Yagi Yusei had his work cut out for him as a scene partner to Hagiwara who absolutely bodied his role as Hira. In season one Yagi did not need to do all that much for his performance because we didn't know as much about Kiyoi until closer to the end, but that cannot be the case for Season 2 and Yagi knocked it out of the motherfucking park.

Sunshine and Q, 7 Days Before Valentine

Okay, almost positive this isn't a BL but I love when people structure TV shows like stage plays, and there was a fight between Sunshine and Q in like Episode 4 or 5 where they were shouting over each other and it just felt so real and the dead silence that hit the room when Q said something that struck a chord with Sunshine was expertly handled, and some of the best work I've seen out of Atom the whole show. I don't think anyone gifed it so I can't put the scene in, but I think you talked about it in your Stray Thoughts @bengiyo

And just cause I wanna, the Top 5 Emotional Outbursts of the pre-2023 shows I watched this year:

In and Wang's fight in 180 Degree Longitude Passes Through Us, Ep 8

Gav sobbing about his aunt in Gameboys (the movie, i think?)

Pran sobbing in to Pat's shoulder in Bad Buddy, Ep 10

Tarn's fight with Teh in I Told Sunset About You, Ep 4 (shout out to Smile there because I still cannot believe it was the first thing she filmed on set)

Shiro being terrified Kenji was dying and Kenji being worried Shiro was dying and the resulting clownery from them blurting that out in What Did You Eat Yesterday? I think it was the New Year's special.

ASK ME MY TOP 5 OF ANYTHING BL 2023

[xenon-demon]

giving you the side of me that i don't let show

Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson | Rating: G | 5k words | Tags: established relationship, autistic Steve Harrington, autistic & ADHD Eddie Munson, the consequences of autistic overstimulation, set in one of those nebulous “everyone lives except vecna and jason” post-s4 AUs, so much fluff, mentions of Robin/Vickie. Title comes from Sloppy Seconds by Watsky.

Because at this time, Eddie knows it has to be his boyfriend; Family Video closes at midnight on Saturday nights. Factor in the time it takes Steve to close up shop and then drive over to the trailer, and there you have- wait. It definitely doesn’t take an hour and half for Steve to get home after work – even if Saturday is their busiest night. Eddie is suddenly struck by the realization that it’s one of those nights. or; Steve has a grueling night at work, and has nothing left in his tank at the end of it. Eddie helps him out.

[READ ON AO3]

Eddie’s so wrapped up in trying to find what the next chord should be in the song he’s writing that he almost doesn’t hear the trailer door opening.

Thankfully, the thing is worn in enough at this point that the hinges squeal like a pig every time someone comes in or out. Some government pay out they got; Eddie’s been scarred for life both physically and mentally (and he lost a nipple – a fucking nipple), and all he and Uncle Wayne got in return was a nearly identical replacement trailer with a door that doesn’t even last a year. Sometimes, Eddie’s grateful for how closely the new trailer resembles his old one. It’s familiar, homey and comforting in a way an upgrade never could’ve been. Most of the time, however, he’s just mad he couldn’t swindle the government into giving him a mansion. Apparently not being arrested for murders he didn’t commit and getting a place to live (plus an admittedly hefty nest egg, but Eddie doesn’t like to give the feds any credit) was enough that he should quit while he’s ahead – thanks, Uncle Wayne.

As much as he whines about their new trailer, the squeaky door does come in handy sometimes. Times like tonight, mainly, where Eddie has a few seconds of forewarning before someone just enters his bedroom. It’s not that he doesn’t want Uncle Wayne or Steve in his space – and it’s always one or the other, they’re the only other people with keys to the trailer – it’s just nice to have the heads up. It gives him a moment or two to prepare.

Time to prepare, and on nights like tonight, time to frantically find his alarm clock from wherever it’s ended up in his room and check the time. Eddie’s had one too many run-ins with Uncle Wayne where he’s gotten lost in his own world and still been up when his uncle finally came home from work. He knows it’s not really an issue – especially not now that he’s finally graduated from that shithole penitentiary masquerading as a high school – but he still feels a prickle of shame every time.

This time, however, his alarm clock says it’s only 1:27 AM. What’s more, Eddie didn’t even have to get up and look for it, as it was actually on his nightstand this time. Sure, Eddie had to move a bunch of papers from his campaign planning and a magazine or two he’d haphazardly dumped there to be able to see the display, but it was actually on the nightstand. Where it belongs. Eddie’s really winning in the game of life tonight.

His winning streak only continues as he hears the shuffle of footsteps and the squeak of the trailer door closing behind Steve. Because at this time, Eddie knows it has to be his boyfriend; Family Video closes at midnight on Saturday nights. Factor in the time it takes Steve to close up shop and then drive over to the trailer, and there you have– wait.

It definitely doesn’t take an hour and half for Steve to get home after work – even if Saturday is one of their busiest nights.

Eddie is suddenly struck by the realization that it’s one of those nights.

“Stevie? Sweetheart?” Eddie calls out. He stands up, gingerly stepping over the notebook and loose pages scattered around his feet so he doesn’t crush them. He’s got probably three half-songs’ worth of chords and tentative lyrics in there somewhere, he doesn’t want to lose them. By the time he’s done that, put his guitar down, and quickly scooped all his papers into a rough pile he can sort through later, Steve’s entered his bedroom.

He doesn’t even spare Eddie a glance before immediately collapsing face-first onto his mattress.

“Oh, baby,” Eddie coos, coming over to sit next to Steve on the bed. Steve makes a noise in acknowledgement, although it’s heavily muffled by the mattress. “Stevie, can I touch you?” Eddie gets another muffled noise in response to that, but this one sounds distinctly like an uh-huh. Taking that for confirmation – this is not Eddie’s first rodeo with nights like these, after all – he reaches out and rubs a firm hand up and down Steve’s back.

Steve sighs contentedly at the contact, some of the tension slowly leeching out of his muscles. They sit like that for a few moments, Eddie half massaging him and half just letting him know he’s there, before Steve says something else. He says it directly into the mattress, just like before, so Eddie doesn’t understand a single word of it.

“Wanna try that again, sweetheart?”

Steve lets out an enormous sigh, and then turns his head to the side to face Eddie. “Wan’ you to lie on me,” he says, and it still comes out a bit slurred. Whether it’s from the way Steve’s cheek is smushed into the mattress, or talking is just a bridge too far for his baby right now, Eddie doesn’t know and frankly, does not care.

“Sure thing. You want your work clothes off first?”

“Just the vest.” Steve’s eyes are shut, and there’s a faint crease between his brows. It’s adorable, and Eddie knows he’s going to do something stupid like bite Steve if he keeps looking at his gorgeous face, so he quickly busies himself with removing Steve’s work vest. It only takes the gentlest of encouragement for Steve to move his arms as needed, Eddie trying his best to take off the vest without making Steve feel unnecessarily constricted. As he does so, he hears Steve taking some deep breaths in and out, and he smiles. 

That’s one of the things they both find helpful, when they get overwhelmed like this; taking a moment to just breathe, as deep as they can. Slowly, in and out, and leaning into the feeling of their chest expanding with each breath in. It’s grounding – and plus, it’s harder to freak out about feeling so overwhelmed your teeth hurt when you’re forcing yourself not to hyperventilate. Eddie knows, though, that he and Steve have very different levels of success on that front.

Now that Steve’s vest is gone – and Eddie’s just flung it somewhere across the room, deciding it’s Future Eddie’s problem – it’s time for what his darling boyfriend actually asked for.

“You ready, sweetheart?” Eddie asks, and gets a positive-sounding mmhmm in response. Without further ado, Eddie swings a leg over Steve to straddle him, then lowers himself down until they’re lying flush, Steve’s back to Eddie’s chest. Eddie lets all of his body weight press down on Steve, and he’s positioned himself just right so he can tilt his head up a little and reach the nape of Steve’s neck. He presses a kiss there, soft and sweet, and hears – feels, really – Steve’s contented sigh underneath him.

“Let me know when you’re ready to move, baby,” Eddie whispers, before tilting his head to the side to rest between Steve’s shoulder blades. They stay there like that, breathing in the same air, as the stress of Steve’s day slowly melts away.

Eddie was so stressed the first time Steve asked for this. He was terrified he was going to be too heavy, or he’d lean on a sore spot of Steve’s, or his bad leg would play up and he wouldn’t be able to get up the very moment Steve asked him to. But then Steve had looked at him, with those big hazel eyes Eddie is absolutely weak to, and said please, Eds?

Naturally, Eddie went with it. It’s not like he had any option not to, okay?

Besides, after the second time Steve asked Eddie to lie on top of him like this, they had a conversation about what exactly the appeal is. Eddie didn’t ask to be judgemental, he was genuinely curious; in Eddie’s mind, wouldn’t the feeling of being contained make you more overwhelmed, not less? Steve had explained it as not feeling like being contained at all – to him, when he’s trapped in his own head, being tethered to reality like that feels like freedom. Something about the pressure, the warmth, the feeling of Eddie breathing on top of him and doing his little fidgets and taps with his hands and feet – it grounds him. It puts Steve back into his body when he feels like his head’s full of static, or he’s looking at the world through six feet of water.

That’s the other thing they both get sometimes. Sometimes, when it’s been a long day, or a lot has happened, or they’ve had to talk to one too many strange people in too short a time period, something in them just… shuts down. For the most part, Steve and Eddie have different things that set them off in this way; for Eddie, unexpected change is a big one. It’s one thing if he knows there are no concrete plans in place, or if he’s been warned that something might happen or change with very little notice. But if he’s made a definite plan to do something, or that something will happen a certain way, only for it to suddenly change? No dice.

Funny he should say that, actually – one time, he nearly canceled a session of Hellfire because they had to relocate at the last minute. Normally their sessions take place in the drama room, thanks to Eddie having a surprisingly decent relationship with the Hawkins High drama teacher, Ms Williams. This one time, however, a rehearsal for the senior play was rescheduled so that it clashed with Hellfire, and at such short notice that they didn’t hear about it until Eddie waltzed into the drama room fifteen minutes before the session was set to start. Thankfully, Gareth managed to find an empty classroom, so after a short delay to move everything in there Eddie was able to run the game as planned. He was, however, off his game for most of the session. Even worse, he felt decidedly off for a considerable time afterwards. The feeling didn’t really go away until after their next session of Hellfire, when they were back in the drama room where they belonged.

So yeah. Eddie can’t handle sudden change, big deal.

Steve can, for the most part; he's a lot more adaptable. No, Steve's weakness is people.

It took Eddie a while to realize it, and even then, he didn't truly understand until after they'd started dating. After all, how could the former King of Hawkins High possibly find socializing difficult? Eddie remembers all those bitter glances he used to shoot King Steve's way, jealous of how effortlessly he commanded the court of public opinion – not that he'd ever admit to it. But then Steve fell from grace, underwent more character growth than Eddie thought one man was capable of, and now Eddie knows the truth: uneasy lies the head that wears a crown. (Eddie is forever in debt to his freshman year English teacher for pointing him in the direction of the battered copy of the Complete Works of Shakespeare in Hawkins Public Library. If only poor Mr Collins knew Eddie was only interested so he could use it as inspiration for D&D campaigns.)

Steve is absolutely charismatic; he knows how to tell people exactly what they want to hear, or make them feel special in a way that keeps them coming back for more. The catch is it's an intentional act. It's a mask that Steve used to be terrified he could never take off, as he mournfully confessed to Eddie one night while sharing a joint in the trailer. As it turns out, Steve just needed better friends; with Robin, with the kids, with Eddie, he finds it so easy to just be himself. He doesn't have to censor himself or fret over what image he's presenting to the world, and can instead relax and actually enjoy the company. Steve's joked around with Eddie before that it's actually kind of good for their relationship that Steve used to have to try so hard – now he knows how to flirt without even consciously thinking about it. What Steve doesn't know is that he could go into graphic detail about the shape of his toenails and Eddie would still be listening with hearts in his eyes.

Unfortunately, Family Video is one place where Steve has to put the mask back on. It is a customer service job after all, and while Steve and Robin often say that Keith would rather die than actually do his job as a manager, Steve really doesn't want to get fired. Keith doesn’t have the same endless patience for Steve that he does for Robin, much to Steve’s eternal frustration. Eddie has borne witness to many of the nightmare customers Steve has to wrangle, and it’s even become something of a game to them at this point. Steve tries to show Eddie how he feels inside without the customer noticing, and Eddie tries desperately not to laugh when Steve meets his gaze with the most dead-eyed expression imaginable.

That's probably what's bothering Steve tonight, actually; one too many annoying customers expecting him to grin and bear it while they chew him out about something meaningless, with the added nuisance of not having Eddie or Robin around to take the edge off. Normally Steve and Robin work Saturday nights together, but Robin called out early for a movie night with Vickie. They’re choosing to refer to it as “calling out early” and not “skipping the majority of your shift” because it sounds better, and what Keith doesn’t know won’t hurt him. 

Eddie went in to say hi like he normally does, but he was earlier than usual tonight. He waltzed in just after six o’clock to bring Steve some dinner – none for Robin, who was planning to eat with Vickie – and then shoot the shit with them for almost an hour before leaving with Robin to take her on her date-she-won’t-admit-is-a-date. He did ask Steve if he wanted Eddie to come back later before he left, and Steve said no, and Eddie kind of made a mental plan to come back anyway but then he got caught up trying to noodle out some new songs and lost track of time–

“Eddie.”

The sound of Steve's voice brings Eddie back to reality. Lifting his head, Eddie finds he can’t really see Steve’s face from this angle, so he readjusts himself and props himself up on his elbows to actually look at Steve. Steve's head is still turned to the side, so Eddie can only see half his face, but he definitely can see the way Steve's eyebrow arches up when he meets Eddie's gaze.

“What's up, sweetheart?” Eddie has a feeling he already knows the answer.

“You know that's the third time I tried getting your attention?”

“Well obviously I didn't, otherwise I would've responded the first time,” Eddie replies, but there's no bite to it. It brings a soft smile to Steve's face, more fond than anything else. When Steve doesn't respond, Eddie continues, “But seriously, what's up? Want me to get off?”

“Not tonight, honey, I have a headache,” Steve replies, shooting Eddie a lazy wink. Eddie rolls his eyes in faux-exasperation – as if he wouldn't make the exact same joke, were the roles reversed – and goes to nudge Steve in the shoulder. With the way Eddie's still lying on him, however, it just makes the two of them rock gently side-to-side on Eddie's mattress. Steve giggles a little at the movement before saying, “You can move now, if you want to. I feel better.”

“Yeah? Wanna talk about why you felt weird in the first place?” Eddie slides off Steve's back and onto the bed next to him as he speaks. He shuffles around until he's lying on his side, noting Steve has done the same and they're now facing each other. All Eddie would have to do to kiss Steve is lean in a few inches, so he does. Why deny himself one of life’s greatest pleasures? It's a very quick and chaste kiss, just a peck really, but Steve lets out a contented hum all the same.

“Of course I’m going to tell you about the annoying people I had to deal with tonight. Just not right now,” Steve says, eyes half-lidded as he looks at Eddie. In another context it could almost be sultry, but the clear bone-deep exhaustion clinging to Steve makes it clear he's fighting to stay awake. Eddie reaches over to cup Steve's cheek, rubbing his thumb back and forth in a slow, repetitive pattern. Steve's eyes slowly drift closed with each pass of Eddie's thumb.

“Yeah, you're about to fall asleep on me, aren't you Stevie? You get stuck in the car on the way home?” Steve gives a soft noise of affirmation, with a twitch of his head that could be a nod if he had more energy.

That happens sometimes, when Steve is really out of it or at the end of a particularly draining day. He'll get in his car to drive home and just... not be able to make himself get out of the car once he gets there. The only people who know about this problem of his are Eddie and Robin, and that's only because they've each witnessed him doing it. In Eddie's case, it was back when they were still friends, that simmering tension hanging between them like a wild animal neither of them wanted to spook. He was waiting for Steve to come over after work, only to realize Steve was late and must be taking longer than expected to close up shop – so why not just go to Family Video and keep him company? When Eddie stepped out of his trailer, however, he saw Steve's BMW parked out the front, Steve sitting inside with head down and resting on the wheel.

They talked about it, but not until some time later, when Steve was no longer embarrassed about Eddie seeing him like that. In Steve's words, sometimes getting himself moving takes more energy than he can muster up at the end of a long day. It's worse when his parents are in town, the thought of going inside and interacting with them sapping the strength from his bones, but mostly it's just the act of getting himself out of the car and inside that's too much to think about some days. On those days, he just stays in the car until he can bring himself to move.

Steve makes do on those days; he has his tapes, and he's even started keeping a book or a couple magazines in his car, which he swaps out when he's finished with them. Eddie's not a huge fan of it, especially when it's cold out or when Steve's doing it out the front of Eddie's trailer – Steve's house is isolated enough that people won't see him just sitting there in his car. The trailer park is a different story.

Still, it's not like Eddie doesn't have his own share of less-than-ideal habits and coping strategies. He doesn’t actually mind that Steve does this sometimes, he just wants him to be safe. Besides, Eddie would rather have a rematch with the bats than make Steve feel like he can't talk to him about his bad days or like he’s being judged for the struggles he has sometimes.

Hearing that Steve's breathing is starting to even out, Eddie jostles his shoulder slightly. Steve frowns, and Eddie feels like the worst person ever for disturbing him when he looked so blissfully calm and peaceful, but he can't let Steve fall asleep in his jeans.

“Stevie,” Eddie says, drawing the syllables out in a sing-song tone, “We've got to get your pants off.”

“Told you I had a headache,” Steve grumbles, not opening his eyes. He does, however, start undoing his jeans, before rolling onto his back and lifting his hips to pull them off. He then takes his polo shirt off as well, both items ending up on the floor just like the Family Video vest did.

“Can I have some sweatpants, please?” Ah, Stevie. Steve Harrington has a way of making even the most benign statement sound bitchy if he wants to, and Eddie fucking adores him for it. Grinning to himself, Eddie roots around in the pile of clean (but unfolded) clothes on top of his dresser. Successfully locating a pair of gray sweatpants, Eddie turns back to Steve and gets on one knee next to the bed, holding the pants aloft and bowing his head as he does so.

“My liege's pants,” Eddie intones, pulling out a regal-sounding character voice to fit the moment. He hears a snort from Steve, so Eddie lifts his head to see Steve's shoulders shaking from the effort of holding in his laughter. Eddie smiles and gently throws the sweatpants at Steve's torso, enjoying the way Steve yelps slightly in surprise when the pants hit him.

As Steve maneuvers himself to put the sweatpants on, Eddie asks, “Can I get you anything before you depart this conscious plane? Water? Something to eat?” Eddie can see Steve thinking about it as he finishes putting the pants on, but he doesn't respond until he's wearing them properly and has made himself comfortable in Eddie's bed again.

“Water would be nice. I want to brush my teeth, but fuck going to the bathroom,” Steve says, cutting himself off at the end of the sentence with a yawn. He even does the old-man stretch with his arms bent as he does it.

Eddie is so gone for this man, it's ridiculous.

“Okay, water and a way of bringing the bathroom to you, got it. I'll be right back.” Eddie starts to head for the kitchen, but stops short in the doorway of his bedroom. He turns back to point a finger at Steve and says, “Don't fall asleep before I get back.”

“No promises,” says Steve, closing his eyes and making a deliberate show of wriggling around on the mattress to get more comfortable.

“I meant it Stevie! If you're asleep when I get back, I'm pouring water on you!” Eddie calls back as he turns and heads to the kitchen, hearing Steve's laughter behind him.

In the kitchen, Eddie puts his plan into action. He grabs two mugs and fills the larger one up with water before making a detour into the bathroom. He grabs Steve's yellow toothbrush and puts some toothpaste on the bristles before running it under the tap to wet it. While in the bathroom, Eddie's eyes land on the washcloth hanging up in the shower. He could dampen that and take it in if Steve wants to wash his face or something... Eddie could do it for him, even. Making his mind up, Eddie puts Steve's toothbrush in the empty mug before grabbing the washcloth and turning the bathroom tap on. He waits a minute for the water to run warm, and once it's reached a suitable temperature Eddie drenches the washcloth before ringing it out a couple of times. Once it's suitably damp, Eddie turns the tap off and drapes the washcloth over his arm, so he can have both hands free for the mugs.

Eddie's very thankful he left his bedroom door open, as he can just walk right in even though his hands are full. He's even more thankful that Steve is still awake, as he'd feel terrible waking Steve up, even if it was to give him what he asked for. Steve is now sitting up in bed cross-legged, watching Eddie as he approaches. His expression turns curious when he clocks what Eddie's holding.

“Here is your water,” Eddie says, placing the full mug and washcloth down on the bedside table. He then hands Steve the other mug with his toothbrush in it and says, “And here is your hand-delivered substitute bathroom. Plus I brought a cloth, in case you wanted to wash your face or something.”

“Okay?” Steve says, although it comes out more as a question, as he takes the mug from Eddie.

Seeing his confusion, Eddie elaborates with, “I figured since you don't want to get up, you could just brush your teeth here and spit into the cup when you're done. I'll wash it in the morning. I don't know, it might be stupid, but-”

“It's not stupid,” Steve says, interrupting Eddie as he starts to ramble. “It's actually really thoughtful of you. Thanks, Eds.” Steve smiles at him then, sweet and love-struck, and it feels like the sun is shining directly on Eddie's face.

Steve starts brushing his teeth, so Eddie takes the time to get changed himself. He's still in his jeans and t-shirt from his trip to Family Video earlier, so he ditches those and puts on an old Hawkins High gym shirt over his boxers. Normally he'd never be seen dead in such a garment, but this isn't any old gym shirt; this is Steve's old gym shirt. The joy of knowing he's wearing his boyfriend's shirt far outweighs any moral reservations Eddie may have about sleeping in Hawkins High sports merchandise.

By the time he's finished changing, Steve is spitting into the empty mug and swapping it for the washcloth next to the bed. He also drops his toothbrush into the formerly-empty mug, bristles-end first. Smart, Eddie thinks to himself, that way he doesn't get toothpaste foam on the handle. Steve gives his face a quick once-over with the washcloth, making a pleased noise when it touches his face. Eddie wants to think he's pleasantly surprised at how the warmth feels on his face, but maybe Steve's just enjoying the feeling of being clean. 

Once he's finished, he swaps the washcloth out for the mug of water and takes a long drink from it. Eddie can't help but stare at the way Steve's throat bobs each time he swallows, especially as Steve starts to tip his head back as the mug becomes emptier and emptier. This really is not the time, Steve is about two minutes away from falling asleep, and he's got the day off tomorrow so they can have as much sex as they want then-

Eddie is brought back to reality at the sound of Steve putting the now-empty mug back down on the table with a thud. His eyes flick up to look at Steve's face, and- oh. Steve's already looking at him, a triumphant gleam in his eyes.

“Tomorrow,” Steve says, eyes darting down to Eddie's lips momentarily, “I promise.”

“Cool,” Eddie says dumbly. He quickly follows it up with, “I mean, yeah, that sounds great, Stevie, looking forward to it.” Steve raises an eyebrow at that. Jesus, he could at least try not to look like he's holding back laughter, the bastard.

“I should hope so,” Steve says, before lying back down in bed and making himself comfortable. Fighting valiantly against the blush on his face, Eddie takes a moment to turn off his bedroom lamp. He's so glad he has an excuse to hide his face from Steve right now.

Now the room is illuminated only by the moonlight from Eddie’s bedroom window, Eddie hops into bed beside Steve and pulls the blanket up and over both of them from the foot of the bed. As soon as he's done that, however, Steve forcibly maneuvers him into the position he wants; Eddie lying on his back, with Steve lying across him and using his chest as a pillow. Eddie made a half-joke once, a long time ago, about how that can't be very comfortable with all his scarring. The look on Steve's face and the wounded tone of his voice when he disagreed made Eddie immediately decide to never make a joke like that again.

After a few moments of readjusting to get themselves comfortable, Eddie leans down to place a kiss on the crown of Steve's head.

“Goodnight, Stevie. Hope you feel better in the morning.”

“'night, Teddy,” and oh, Steve's tired if he's bringing out that nickname. Eddie feels a sloppy kiss to his chest and a muffled, “Love you so much.”

“I love you too, sweetheart,” Eddie replies, and he really does feel like the luckiest person on Earth. He's forever grateful that he gets to see this side of Steve, that he gets to be the one who helps him when he’s struggling, the safe haven where Steve can recover after the world has been too much for him. Eddie had always wondered what romantic love felt like growing up, but now that he’s with Steve, he finds there’s no one right answer to that question; the way he loves Steve is constantly changing, growing stronger and deeper every day.

“Hey, Eds?” Steve says, drawing Eddie's attention back to him. Eddie makes a noise of acknowledgement, so Steve continues, “Remind me tomorrow to tell you who rented a bunch of things from our adult section tonight.”

“Oh?” Eddie whispers back. “Were they particularly scandalous pornos? Or- wait, was it someone we know?”

“Yep,” Steve says, “it was your favorite person in all of Hawkins.” Eddie frowns at that, genuinely unsure who Steve could be referring to. There's quite a few people in Hawkins Eddie doesn't get along with, but less so now that he's finally graduated; or at least, less that he has to interact with on a regular basis. After racking his brains for a minute, Eddie throws out the first reasonable guess he can think of.

“Officer Callahan?” 

Steve snorts.

“No.”

“Officer Powell, then.” Eddie's got his eyes closed now, letting the conversation wash over him. As interested as he is in whatever gossip Steve has, he knows they're not going to unpack it properly until tomorrow.

“It wasn't a cop, Eds.”

“Well then you're going to have to give me a hint, because I'm coming up blank, baby.” Eddie can feel the way Steve smirks against his chest at his words.

“It was Mrs O'Donnell.”

Eddie's eyes shoot open.

“What?” There's no response from Steve. Eddie groans, screwing his eyes up and rubbing the bridge of his nose with the hand that's not busy holding Steve against his body. “Stevie, baby, you can't just do this to me. You can't just drop that bombshell on me and refuse to elaborate.”

“Goodnight, Eddie,” Steve says, voice lilting in a way that proves he knows exactly what he's doing.

That bastard.

Eddie loves him more than life itself.

Tagging some people who might want to see this: @sailing-through-hawkins @stobinesque @scarcrossdlvrs @ghostlytimelord @steves-strapcollection @inairbinad @patchworkgargoyle

[bugs1nmybrain]

Give Your Heart a Break - Chapter 2 Tomura Shigaraki x reader series

You can find chapter one here

Notes: So I want to clarify that in this fic, a major theme about Tomura's story is that he suffers from a lot of untreated mental illness. I'm representing him as someone who's undiagnosed Bipolar, but also experiences symptoms that boarder schizophrenia, such as the voices he hears and he'll eventually have a psychotic episode at some point in this story. I know this feeds the "Bipolar and psychotic people are evil" stereotype, but I have these mental illnesses and see Shigaraki as someone who could very much have untreated Bipolar disorder (type 1 specifically), regardless. Most anime characters aren't written to be bipolar lol but I have a list of reasons why I think he has the potential to be. Maybe I'll make a post about it someday.

Summary: Tomura is so goshdarn determined to find his lil gamestop crush and thanks to him conveniently seeing her debit card he casually stalks her on the internet

Warnings: 18+ minors don't interact, cliffhanger, mildly dark content, internet stalking, creepy Tomura, Tomura and y/n only talk over the internet in this chapter, i wrote Tomura's thoughts but it's not from his direct POV. They are highlighted in blue, like in chapter 1 Tomura hears voices and sometimes they can be nasty - they are highlighted in red, soft Shigaraki, very scott pilgrim kind of humor, edgy and derogatory humor at one point (used ironically to mock people who say them seriously), Tomura has his English dub's voice (pre Paranormal Liberation Front), not proofread yet, I wrote this while I was stoned af

Notes About Reader:

everything from chapter 1 applies

she/her pronouns

relatively active on social media but makes content private

reader is a WEIRDO

I made the reader's username mine lol

As said, she's very based off of me

reader experiences unspecified mental illness and has been to a psych ward in her past

she laughs very easily

"*your full legal name*"

Tomura considered the possibility that you may have been using someone else's card or that you didn't go by your legal name, but he was sure it was a decent place to start. His heart was racing so hard to find out who you were. He wasn't sure what struck a chord in him when he saw you. He supposed it was cuz you're pretty, but he really didn't know anything about you other than you're spooky, you like anime, and you like his hair.

He immediately started searching for your name on his phone. It wasn't hard to find your Facebook, though your privacy settings didn't let him see much other than profile pictures. You seemed somewhat outgoing from they pictures you posted. There was a directory about you online, and he guessed it was you based on your age and location (he saw your location on FB lol). Now he knew your address..

the internet is so nice to him sometimes :)

It took him a little bit of digging but he found your other socials outside of Facebook. All private, though. Fuuuck.

Fuck it, follow.

Tomura never showed his face on his socials and never ever ever put his name. You wouldn't know it was him.

"But now she has to approve it :("

*bugsinmybrain accepted your follow request*

:)))))

Tomura swore that he felt as if he had unlocked a fucking treasure chest. You were so very flashy, that's for sure. A lot of pictures of you, decorated with some cute stickers that were edited in, or surrounded by anime dudes.

"Tenko"

"Fuck off."

From what he could tell, you were a geek. Very nerdy and interested in things, though that wasn't a bother to Tomura. He was a fan of a lot of shit. You were also very pretty. He then stumbled on some posts you'd made about heroes. How you thought their system was corrupted and that they'd neglect people and dismiss those who they thought were worth sacrificing. Mmm, you're speaking his language. You didn't appear to be any kind of villain, you couldn't be so outgoing on the internet if you were, but you were certainly feisty.

He wanted to message you. He knew it would be weird and he didn't want to creep you out, but god he wanted to talk to you. He wanted to know more about you. To be honest, he really wanted you to give him your undivided feminine attention. When you spoke with him at GameStop he felt warm. Love at first sight? Possibly. Is he that much of a fool?

His social anxiety made him almost want to watch you outside your window before messaging you online anonymously. rrr.

"whatever."

him: hey, do you remember the blue haired guy from GameStop?

you didn't answer for two hours.

Tomura tried to not care if you responded or not but he was boiling hot and itching anxiously, wondering if you had actively ignored him. But you didn't unfollow or block him, he checked many times.

her: omg yea

!!!

him: is your name (y/n)? that's what your card said. sorry thats creepy af but i kinda wanted to talk to you so I looked you up.

He wasn't even attempting to not be a stalker at this point. What else was he supposed to say? There's no way to cover the fact that he has a crush on you or something.

her: yea that's me. i noticed you peaked at my name so it's ok lol. what's your name?

"fuck"

he wasn't supposed to say anything like that online. He's a piece of shit, yea, but a part of Tomura didn't want to lie.

"Tenko"

That's a name he heard often. For the last couple of years he began experiencing frequent auditory hallucinations. Hearing "Tenko" was one of them. Sometimes they'd tell him to stop or scream at him or strangely enough, they'd be calm and nurturing to him. It drove him crazy sometimes.

Whatever.

him: Tenko

her: why did you want to talk to me?

him: that's an awkward question

her: why?

him: i guess it's not. you look cool and said shit about hating heroes. is that a good enough reason?

her: LMAO

i suppose

him: do you play any video games? I saw you go to the anime section...

her: i play but i'm not very good at any of them

"of course she isn't"

him: what games do you play?

her: league of legends

him: omg are you kidding me?

her: no

him: do you wanna play with me? like. right now?

her: sure??

score.

You were trash at league. But somehow it was charming seeing you try your best, though your efforts were very frugal. Normally seeing someone so bad in his game would make Tomura pissed but he gave you a pass. At the moment, he was more worried about getting to know you than the game itself. So he tried all he could to get you to talk, he loved your voice.

"I'm going to assume you're very new to this?"

"Yea."

"How new?"

"I've been playing for maybe 3 months."

"That long and you're still shit?"

"I know I suck," you say defensively. As if you could hear the things in his head.

"You kind of do, not going to lie."

It wasn't long after that you got essentially gangbanged by three enemy players with no attacks given back.

"FUCK"

The loud cussing in his headphones made Tomura jump, but he couldn't help but start to chuckle violently.

"Feisty bitch ain't she?"

"She wants to suck your cock."

"Shut up..." Tomura growled under his breath.

"Did you just tell me to shut up??" You ask, though chuckling while you did.

"What? No, no. Sometimes I just have really bad thoughts that come out of nowhere. I have to like.."

"Tell them to be quiet?"

"yup."

"I've done that. Like actually, though. I'll just start thinking of the most wacked out thing, and it comes out of no where. Sometimes I knock on my head to get rid of them, hah."

I guess a spooky looking gal like you being mentally ill wasn't a surprise to him. Your ability to relate to his situation was still comforting, though. Especially because he almost expected you to get uncomfortable when he told you about having "bad thoughts." Some girls may think a freaky looking dude like him having "bad thoughts" meant that he was some homicidal villain.

oh wait

"Really? I've had it happen to me all my life, but for the last two years I've like...heard voices, I guess? Sometimes the thoughts aren't even thoughts, they just happen. And I'll hear them, in voices that aren't mine. Also forget all of that, I'm normal and you're very bad at league."

The giggle that erupted from you shot an infestation of butterflies inside his chest. You seemed to think he was very funny, which is something that frankly turned him on. Throughout your call he was able to make you snicker from saying the dumbest shit. He prayed you weren't just faking it.

"It's ok. You'd be surprised how common that is. Doesn't make it any easier though, I'll say that," you reply, hoping to ease his nerves. You could tell even over voice call that while he spoke very easily about his hallucinations, he had a level of shame for them.

"No. It doesn't. Who made you a psychiatrist, anyways?"

"My six stays at the psych ward maybe," you retort.

"sexy."

"Excuse me, Tenko?"

Oh right. That's his name right now. Fuck, he wanted to see you in person. He felt like he'd be able to be more of an open book that way. He'd still need a story though, fake name or not. You probably thought you were just talking to some geeky gamer boy with blue hair and possible schizophrenia, but little did you know, you were talking to a facilitator of multiple acts of mid-level terrorism. Hey, but if it was all in the name of "Fuck Heroes" maybe you'd still laugh at his jokes.

"Sorry that wasn't very feminism of me was it?"

"No, it wasn't" you said as you wheezed in laughter.

"You like my edgelord jokes, don't you?"

You kept laughing, now somehow he had pulled a couple of snorts out of you too.

"fat pig."

"Want to take a trip to 2016? I bet Leafy would love to make fun of autistic 12 year old's with you."

He swore that you were probably crying from how hard you were laughing. He wished he could see you on camera right now, but hearing you blow out his ear drums with your annoying yet adorable little laugh was good enough for now.

"Am I going to have to come resuscitate you?" Tomura cackles, now feeling himself starting to laugh.

"Your voice is cute," you beam at him.

"Liar."

"I'm not!"

"Someone once told me I sound like I'm a prison bitch cuz of how hoarse my throat is."

"wow."

"Done with the jokes, got it."

"I know, right?"

"I just think it's cute, you're very expressive."

*this is Tomura right, now by the way*

"Does that mean that uh..you think I'm cute?" he pesters with the widest smile on his face, though you couldn't see.

*que jeopardy music*

Goodness, you certainly had a girlish charm with the way your mellow voice would start chirping with laughter. He didn't think flirting should've been this easy, but you were very impressionable.

"Is it ok to say yes?" you asked sheepishly over call.

"Ehehehe~!!!" Tomura squealed, mocking your giggles.

"Shut up!"

"Am I going to have to come and rescue you? You sound like you're running out of air," he asked almost genuinely, as he held back a cough.

"Do it, pussy, you won't."

"Oh really?"

"Uh-huh."

"Would you be mad at me if I told you I know where you live?"

"Excuse me?"

"Not my fault. Blame yourself for being an on-the-grid person. The internet is dangerous, didn't you know?"

"Are we officially stalker-stalkee now?" you joked.

"Yea but my hair is blue and my voice is cute so it's ok if I stalk you, right?"

"Oh my fucking god."

"So, can I come see you?"

"Huh?"

"In person. I could be there in like half an hour. You live near me."

"Tenko, it's 10pm."

"Would you get in trouble? Do you live with parents or something?"

"Yea."

"I could pick you up and we could walk back to my place."

Now, dear readers, would you accept such an offer from a complete stranger at almost midnight, absolutely alone with him? After he has admitted to lowkey stalking you? You shouldn't!

However, we, the reader, are ignorant to common sense when we receive the slightest crumb of positive (?) male attention.

"Sure."

"teeheehee!!" Tomura teases. "Keep your eyes pealed, then. Thirty minutes, okay?"

"omg i guess."

"omg ok, what kind of energy drink do you like?"

[rewordthis]

So I just watched the last episode of Wind Breaker and I’ll say one thing only; if you haven’t watched it yet, GO!

It got green-lighted for 2nd season for 2025, too!

I’ve been seeing activity about it around tumblr, and to be honest didn’t think much of it, but it’s good. It really is good. I’m already looking forward to 2nd season~ 😋

But right now I want to talk about something I didn’t like. Minor complain but, hey! My post, my rules!

You see…

Sometimes I have beef with the translations for niche things and sometimes it’s because they’re plain stupid…

Like, I hate how Umemiya says “do you like or hate him” here (specifically referring to Togame, あいつ, and actually stressing on the ‘like’ part in the next scene because Sakura tried to stand up for him) and Sakura just full out blushes like his crush has been found out (and he’s doing that a LOT! Trust me~ He’s a tsun, fun little guy <3), but the translation is just this generic line that sounds creepy af on top of detached from the person it refers to (すき is a word that is generally used as ‘like’ as in I like pasta, but for humans it heavily implies liking someone like that, because when mentioned it refers to the love side of the meaning) and it’s so… hmpf~ 😤

Sakura-chan seen through and through~ And he’s not even trying to deny IIIIIIIT (for once)!!! (//∇//)

And this has struck a chord, you know? Because Sakura is a tsun, he’s not accepting that people have seen through him but that’s the only case he does not say anything to deny it. He does not try to deflect. He merely blushes furiously but quietly accepts Umemiya’s statement before he asks what’s so important about being able to ‘converse’ with his fists like… _(:3 」∠)_

‘Yeah, I like him. Let’s change the subject… Why do you care?’

Umemiya’s explanation that this has to meet two conditions in order to happen is… making things even more personal… hhhn~ a) you need to face your opponent and b) to want to know them (and Sakura did thought that during their fight; anyone else getting flashbacks from all those shojo/bl manga this has been used as the catalyst for the mc to acknowledge their feelings, like I did here??? huh???). Ahem. Yeah…

Then the whole thing about how Sakura is still capable of accepting others, even though he says he doesn’t… (Nirei pointing out that he’s been accepted by Sakura even though he’s not strong enough to hold a fight on his own, is a proof of it.)

Not to mention how the only thing he could come up for punishment was “get cooler so I’ll want to fight you again”, coming from a guy who’s literally considering fighting his entire damn personality and reason to exist! ᕦ(ò_óˇ)ᕤ You like Togame, you accept him (even though you absolutely thought the worst of him at the start), and I dare say he’s even the first person you ever really came to like and your feelings were actually reciprocated — he had an impact in you the way he called your name and invited you to resume your fight — that you were thinking back to it, you also like how he’s stronger than you (you reflected back on how you’d actually lose to him if he hadn’t given up… come on, tell me I’m wrong if you can, I’ll wait~)… Joke’s on you, Sakura-chan~ (☝︎ ՞ਊ ՞)☝︎

Btw, I know Sakura-chan! What’s there not to love about Togame~ 🤗

Man made me emotional completely out of the blue, kudos to the studio and everyone that worked on this anime and especially these couple episodes. 🩶👍

Right, anyway… if you know me I’m here for the plot first and foremost but a port has many gates so… hehe 🤭

Also, I don’t know how I was under the impression that Sakura was a libra but the wiki had his birthday on April 1st, along with a couple more characters being Aries and I’m like… bro, that’s why the brawls… THEM BRAWLS!!! 😅

[burst-of-iridescent]

so sorry you've been getting these anons ana :( i thought as a native i could give my two cents on the fire lady katara trope? ill admit im more of a casual zutara shipper, so i havent seen a good chunk of the fandom, but ill give it my thoughts. for me personally, i am not a fan of fire lady katara- it's not particularly to do with the trope itself, but the execution often done by the fandom. ive discussed this with other natives before, but sometimes in the fire lady trope, it is often that katara moves to the fire nation, that she wears fire nation clothes and is surrounded by fire nation culture. obviously, that isn't wrong! the sharing of culture is a beautiful thing, but there is a good majority of fics where it feels like her water tribe culture is forgotten, that she is made to move permanently to the fire nation in favour of zuko. specifically in a post war climate, where a good majority of the people in the fire nation would still hold onto imperialist and racist beliefs, the idea of katara living there permanently is uncomfortable. i moved out of my mostly native village into a nearly fully white uni, and it's scary, and so when i apply those thoughts to katara living in the fire nation, its uncomfortable. and as for the rest, it's mainly just how sometimes it feels like the fandom doesn't value her culture as much as zukos, even unconsciously- it often feels like the fandom values the perceived glamour and power of the fire nation royalty, and finds fire nation culture more understandable than anything water tribe, and so prefer to have katara in a setting that is more 'easy' for them. in hand with this, is often the fandom perception that the water tribe is less progressive than the fire nation, that they are sexist and that zuko is giving katara a better life (i will say that this is not something i have not seen often, especially recently, but it is something i have discussed w people so i thought id mention it, especially since its usually not intentional). sorry this got so long, i went on a bit of a ramble but obviously this isn't the be all end all. like you said, there are lots of people who are fine, or enjoy fire lady katara because they perceive or write it differently, and that is fine! everyone perceives media differently, just like some people will be uncomfortable with zutara, some might not be. i just thought id send this as a reason why some of us do dislike the trope, and things to keep in mind when ppl are writing it

hi anon, thank you so much for sharing this with me! i really appreciate you taking the time to write out your thoughts and offer your perspective on this.

i definitely agree that the fire lady katara trope can be executed in some exceedingly problematic ways. there are many zutara fics that i've clicked out of for the reasons that you've mentioned, especially older ones that were written around when the show aired or shortly after. i won't deny at all that there are ways people write the zutara relationship that make me profoundly uncomfortable. my problem arises when someone assumes that the trope itself is inherently racist or wrong, instead of understanding that it can be written in a variety of ways by a variety of people, who bring their own perspectives - and prejudices - to their individual portrayals.

what you said about moving from your mostly native village to a fully white university really struck a chord with me because (although it's not the same, and can never be) i can really sympathize with those feelings of alienation and sudden lack of belonging. i'm part of the desi diaspora myself, and i've grown up in a country where i've always been the minority, and had to deal with racism and ignorance, so your experience really spoke to me. i hope that doesn't come across like i'm trying to co-opt your struggle or anything like that, because that was not my intention at all. i just wanted to let you know that i can understand what a scary feeling it is, even if not exactly in the same way.

that being said, personally if i could choose between spending my life in india or growing up overseas, i would still choose to do the latter even if it meant living through the bigotry and ostracization i've experienced again. i love the life i've built here, though it's a more difficult one than what i could've led back home.

in the context of atla, i agree that katara would most likely face racism and discrimination in the fire nation, at least in the immediate years following the war. but personally i also find a very empowering narrative in seeing her confront and dismantle the prejudices within the fire nation system, just as she did with the sexism of the northern water tribe. katara wouldn't abide bigotry in any form, and i think fighting inequality is a battle that she would want to take on, and would willingly choose to take on whether she ended up with zuko or not. that's why i take issue with the insistence that her becoming queen of the fire nation inherently equates to her victimization, because it can also very much be a power fantasy, and i know many woc who do see it as such.

(of course, that is just my own perspective, and i completely understand why others see it differently and might not be comfortable with it. their feelings are just as valid and legitimate.)

ultimately, i think correctly executing the fire lady katara trope isn't just about katara herself valuing her culture, but zuko doing it as well. i love seeing explorations of the trope (and the zutara relationship in general) where zuko takes an active interest in katara's heritage, incorporates her traditions and practices into his own life and home, and involves himself in her culture just as much as she involves herself in his. zutara is a ship that has always been about equality to me, and that's something that can and should carry over to how they blend their cultures together. like you said, there is nothing wrong in katara wearing fire nation clothes, or being surrounded by fire nation culture - so long as she isn't the only one in the relationship taking an interest in her partner's heritage. thankfully, in most zutara content i've seen, she isn't.

in my own personal view of katara becoming fire lady, it happens only years after the war ends. she spends her time postwar travelling the world and kicking ass, empowering women in the north to learn waterbending, rebuilding the southern water tribe, meeting and learning from everyone she can. when she becomes fire lady, she continues to travel often - home, of course, but also to the other nations when necessary, using her skill of inspiring and motivating others, and her desire to help the less fortunate, in matters of international diplomacy. when she returns, her husband is in blue, and her children wear whalebone beads in their hair, and there are fire flakes next to stewed sea prunes on her dining table. there are hard times, but there is also love and respect, and so she changes the world as she damn well deserved to in canon.

[discoduck492]

𝐹𝒶𝒸𝓉𝓈 𝒶𝒷𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒯𝒾𝓂𝑜𝓉𝒽𝓎 𝐻𝑒𝓁𝓁𝑒𝓇 𝓈𝒾𝓉𝓊𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃. ⚖️💎

If you are coming across this post & you are not aware, in 2017 the former best friend of pop artist; 'Melanie Martinez' came out with her story, claiming that Melanie had assaulted her during a sleepover. This was big news at the time and left a bad taste in a lot of people's mouths. It all eventually got swept under the carpet with the help of a plethora of false information to create a situation where the public simply didn't know who or what to believe.

Honestly, I'm not a huge 'Crybaby' (as Melanie's fans are often referred to) at all, although I enjoyed some of Melanie Martinez's earlier songs. In fact, I'm not even overly interested in pop culture- but this situation really struck a chord with me. I guess I see myself in Timothy a bit as a survivor of similar circumstances. I've seen a lot of misinformation floating around, and I thought I'd make a lil master-post to clear things up. It appears that a lot of the people who are recycling misinformation & rooting stubbornly for Melanie's innocence are very young and just want to protect the image they hold of their idol, which I empathise with.

To those young fans- if you truly believe Melanie is innocent, there is absolutely no need to create fake screenshots, attack Timothy or anything of that nature. She doesn't need fans to embellish the story to protect her. Her innocence would speak for itself, & honestly it would help Melanie more if her fans portrayed themselves as levelheaded rather than brutish bullies, taking sides like it is a sports game. This situation is delicate, and has everything to do with nuance and sensitivity.

Let's get into it..

1. 'Timothy admitted to lying in 2017 !!?'

This was one of the many rumours spread by die-hard fans. There was a photoshopped Instagram story screenshot spread around online where there is a- horribly written might I add- 'confession' from Timothy. As rumours do- especially when para-social, blindly passionate fans are involved- these false screenshots spread like wildfire.

Note the incorrect formatting of the time of posting in the false screenshot. Instagram has always formatted story post times as eg. '9m' or '9h'. Never 9min. Beyond that, the writing/grammar etc reads very childish, when Timothy typically demonstrates a more eloquent writing ability. Not sure how these kinds of things were believed at the time; but my best guess is because a lot of the fanbase was very young at the time (12-18 mostly).

2. 'didn't Timothy accuse multiple other celebrities of the same thing!?'

No. This was another persistent rumour circulating at the time that was, similarly to the former rumour, entirely fabricated. I doubt Timothy Heller even has connections to Billie Eilish, Lana Del Rey, Taylor Swift or any of the other names that have been floating around. There is absolutely no evidence of Timothy ever making these claims, it's just young impressionable fans parroting one another.

This one is incredibly strange- there isn't even any kind of evidence of Timothy saying this, let alone false evidence. It seems that somehow, obsessive Melanie fans saw the following Timothy tweets and spun a completely ridiculous lie using the names she mentioned. Timothy never once claimed to be assaulted by anyone other than Melanie.

These tweets are actually quite protective and sweet in nature, she is speaking her mind noticing how Billie Eilish who was only 16 at the time was very unprotected in the industry; surrounding herself with grown men, etc. and it was incredibly overlooked due to her celebrity status.

3. 'Timothy messed up the date! Aha! Proof she lied!'

Timothy did indeed fumble the date back in 2017. She explains in her recent video that the reason for this was that she was going off of a photo she remembered taking the day after the event, and unfortunately the photo appeared twice in her camera roll thus confusing the date (it's possible she took a screenshot of the photo later on or something along that vein).

Fans noticed that on the date Timothy gave mistakenly; Melanie was on tour in a different state & fans naively ran with this as proof of a lie.

The truth is, Timothy messing up the date is completely irrelevant. It would be a point of suspicion if Melanie had entirely denied they were ever together, but this isn't the case. It was confirmed by Melanie that this sleepover & the night in question did happen. It was also confirmed by Melanie, that on this night they did have sexual interactions. The date is totally unimportant.

I find it very strange how in image 1- Melanie admits that the night in question happened ie. the infamous 'she never said no to what we chose to do together'. This line of course sounds... convoluted at best, fairly sinister at worst.

However in image 2, Melanie states she 'thanks her 'fans who took the time to research the timeline, analyze past instagram photos, and question the story being told, which reveal her false statements'. This is incredibly strange, as she is implying that fans pointing out the date mix up proves her innocence; yet simultaneously admits that the event happened. Very inconsistent.

4. 'Why doesn't she take it to court rather than TikTok? Clearly she is after fame.'

In the midst of the aftermath of Timothy Heller's recent TikTok video where she resurfaces and speaks on her story again; a lot of people are questioning why she has not taken this to court. For some this is a way of saying 'this is a personal, delicate issue that is bound to get messy and explosive online & not the public's issue' which is an understandable perspective; but for others what they mean is 'she didn't take it to court, that must mean she's not serious about this therefore it is a lie'.

Unfortunately, legal justice is incredibly unlikely with a case like this, and I'm sure Timothy is aware of that.

There is (thankfully for Timothy's sake) no video evidence, no audio recordings- even if some sort of physical test of touch, fluid, etc. was performed, this only proves sex- not assault; and Melanie doesn't deny that they had sex. It also happened years ago, and as time goes on these things become harder and harder to prove.

Timothy likely feels that the best she can do is attempt to speak out and attain some form of social justice. Not only is the legal system feeble and tricky- it's also that Melanie has a disproportionate amount of money to work with. For Timothy, taking this to court would likely be a financially poor & fruitless decision.

Timothy also has stated in the past in this livestream @ 4:11 'I don't want to go to the police because I don't want Melanie to go to jail.'

So, there is also this understandable element where she still cares for Melanie on some level. She has no desire to punish Melanie herself, her coming out had more to do with owning her OWN story and liberating herself with the truth.

5. 'Isn't it suspicious that Timothy only seems to come out with this when Melanie is at a high in her career?'

A common point fans bring up is that Timothy seems to come out with her story at 'peaks' in Melanie's career. I don't have much to flesh out about this one since honestly this point is more of a personal opinion type of thing. Yes, Melanie is on her worldwide 'Trilogies' tour, but her album; 'Portals' came out a year ago.

I honestly feel like people would be throwing out this stale argument no matter when Timothy resurfaced. Whether it was during the anticipation of Portals, when Portals released, in the months after release- hell, during the K-12 era even. I just think this point is very.. empty.

That being said, if you would consider right now a high in her career, this honestly makes a lot of sense. Timothy was driven off of the internet by pure malice the first time she came out with this information- it makes sense that now that Melanie is bigger, she wants to reinforce, 'hey, don't forget about me, don't forget about my story & what I went through'.

6. 'She remained friends with Melanie, dressed up as Melanie, agreed to play a fun sex game with Melanie'

None of these things point to her lying, and in fact are very plainly consistent with Timothy's story from the get go. Timothy always maintained the fact that for some time after the event occurred, it was hard to admit to herself that what happened was assault. Having that realisation took time, reflection & concerned reactions from friends when she would jokingly explain what happened. Therefore she stayed friends with Melanie & in her inner circle. As for the sex game... irrelevant. You can play a fun 'goofy' sex game with a friend but not intend to actually have sex with them.

7. 'Timothy Heller is Jealous & only wants Melanie's Fame & to Further Her own Music Career!'

This one is possibly the strangest of them all, yet seemingly the most prevalent take from hardcore fans.

First of all- being famous for being assaulted by a famous person, does not translate to personal fame in other endeavours outside of a minority of people who have eyes on the situation idly clicking on things out of sheer curiosity. 'Oh, this is 'the girl who was assaulted by Melanie Martinez's' music!'.

It is known that often, speaking up hinders people's careers which is why many in the industry & in life in general stay silent. This is exactly what happened to Timothy Heller- she was bullied, doxxed, threatened, stalked and harassed into hiding; not only doing wonders I'm sure for her mental health; but also putting her potential music career to a complete halt for some time.

Timothy has absolutely nothing to gain from coming out. Truly nothing. Not money, not fame in her personal endeavours, nothing but the possibility of justice on a social level; combined with the risk of further social ridicule & threat to her physical safety. She is putting herself on the line to double down on her story. After all she went through after coming forward the first time, she is completely willing to die on this hill so to speak. That shocked me...

In 2017, though even my younger self was appalled by the way fans were handling the situation and treating Timothy; it really did feel more like a 'he said, she said' situation. However, now after the fact of her making that video, the emotion in her voice, her never straying form the initial story; Melanie's inconsistencies...

I believe her.

& if you don't... touché; it's true that none of us were there. Though I feel that picture is quite clear when all of the misinformation is cleared away; which was the intention of this post.

8. Note that Melanie's tendency to be sexually coercive has been Reiterated by people other than Timothy

Melanie's former stylist, Madeleine Carina came out on Twitter not long after Timothy with the following statement:

“Something similar (not r*pe) happened w/ me and Mel. She begged me over and over again to sleep with her n I finally gave in. She wore me down. I said yes. But it was not the same with Timothy. I will support @timothyheller till the end.”

While Madeleine herself clarifies that she didn't consider her situation assault as she did eventually say yes; it does shed light on this kind of behaviour being a pattern for Melanie.

//

Some closing thoughts: reviewing all of this information, I think there's a strong chance that Melanie herself genuinely doesn't believe that she crossed a line & has a sort of cognitive dissonance about it. There is room for all sorts of shades of grey when it comes to understanding human emotions & intentions, but this wouldn't negate the way this occurrence affected Timothy either way. I read somewhere 'If Timothy wasn't a victim before, she definitely is now considering the way she's been treated all these years'.

Thankyou for reading, & I hope this shed some light on things ✌🏼🤍🤍

[many-but-one]

EYEWITNESS

⚠️TW: religious trauma, CSA, RAMCOA, descriptions of child death⚠️

Author’s note: This is an intense poem, but is extremely important for me to share as an eyewitness to these atrocities. As the highest level gatekeeper in our system, I witnessed Everything, and was forced to cut my emotions about it away so I could do my job. Yesterday, a mutual on TikTok (The Brigadoon System) posted a video in response to a hate comment on one of our videos, in which they described the emotions about what it’s like to witness child death, and it struck such a chord in me that I actually was able to feel some of these feelings again for the first time in many, many years. It was difficult. Devastating. But also cathartic in a way. It reminded me that I’m not the cold monster I used to believe I was, and that allowing yourself to feel grief can be healing, too.

Please only read if you feel you are able to do so, please heed the trigger warnings above.

This poem DOES end on a good note, but it starts a bit heavy. Please read with caution.

EYEWITNESS

You know what they say about eyewitness reports. How they are often unreliable, how people often focus too much on a certain thing or they are too caught up in the emotions of it all that they mistake brunette hair for black, or black skin for white. Or whatever story serves the highest bidder, whatever story the pigs can scrape out of them to put someone they already hate behind bars.

You’ve all heard that, right?

And maybe it’s true that eyewitness accounts aren’t always accurate, but I’ve always felt like I would be a fantastic eyewitness, so good, in fact, the cops would hate me for how I refuse to stare at the lineup of pictures of black men with dreads or Latino men with tattoos that scare the perfect bottle blonde PTO moms lined up in front of me. They’d hate me for how I’d describe the perpetrator as a white man in a black business suit, I’d note the exact turn the curls in his hair made. I’d let the police know he wore blue eye contacts. I’d tell them not to forget the freckle underneath his right eye, I surely won’t. I could tell them that his dick was 6.75 inches too and that he never shaved, and when they ask me why I know that, I’ll tell them that I could feel him hitting my cervix when I was six years old, and he couldn’t push all the way in. I’ll tell them I used to get his hair stuck under my tongue when he used my mouth like a cunt. I’d let them know he kept his nails clean and trimmed short so that when he gripped at me he wouldn’t leave scratches that would be noticed later.

See, the thing about eyewitness accounts is that emotions are always running high when someone holds a gun to you from the other side of a convenience counter, but luckily for me I cut those away when I was seven, my job description required it, especially after that one cold December night. You know, the really important one everyone talks about all the time. It’s a night that I lament as the one I became god, and so too like god I created the separation between the sky and the land—the inner world one, I mean. Don’t think I’ve gotten cocky, I’m not that much of a sadist.

The sky I created was like spilled ink swelling across a page of parchment, and it held no stars or moon. Instead the black, viscous sky held my grief, it held that singular emotion I could not take that night, the night I was killed three times and what arose from me were sacrificial lambs, a pack of snarling wolves, and a god whose blue eyes were as cold as the winter’s midnight wind. The grief nearly overtook me and so I had to cut him away from me, I placed him in the sky, the one thing that would remain not only above me, but all around me, a place I would swim in every so often and get trapped in like a raptor in a Jurassic tar pit.

The rest of my parts, the children and the tigers and the demons and angels would never know where my grief went, they’d call me cold and cruel, they’d call me a monster, and I’d let them, because I knew they were telling the version of the truth I believed myself. I was a monster for having the ability to cut my pain away from me while they all writhed in theirs like a fly caught in a spider’s web.

For every trauma we took, for every single event I witnessed, the sky would grow larger, darker, heavier. Nobody felt the weight of it except me, the god who resided in it, an Atlas of epic proportions—who experienced everything, witnessed everything, Knew Everything. Omnipresent, omniscient, but not omnipotent. Every December reminded me of that, when I’d find myself on that church floor in my white dress with my limbs bound in prayer. O Holy God, wherest art thou? I’m right here, I’ve Always been here. Shattered over and over like delicate china dolls, those fragment pieces still scream the words I could never say at the time and will never be able to receive an actual answer for.

WHY? WHY? WHY?

The answer that I know you hold in your blackened heart is that you’re a sick and twisted man with sick and twisted followers, who keep the red eyes trained on me for money. Do you really think I’m that fucking stupid, that I don’t know your little games weren’t for a religious cause? They were so you could line your pockets. But at least I’d get a good Christmas present and my dad would get his booze money.

I used to wish that you had killed me, my desire to give up and die was held in a creature called The Nothing, held back by the strongest of my wolf pack, a black hellhound named G’mork wreathed in the fires of Wrath and Vengeance, who holds Hope like a tool of demolition. He held back this immense creature almost as expansive as my grief overhead, and it kept us alive.

It wasn’t until later that I realized how important this would be to me. See, I hated that he existed to keep that desire at bay, sometimes I wish I could tell him to let it free, let it consume us, but our brain was stubborn in keeping us alive.

I now realize that if I hadn’t lived all these years later, I wouldn’t have been able to become the most important eyewitness I’d ever become. The most painful and devastating eyewitness I would ever bear, a witness to monstrosities that cannot ever be truly described, something I wish in my heart of heart and soul of souls that I could have stopped. I couldn’t then.

But maybe now, I can.

I have lived through so many types of torture, the sorts of things that make even my therapist with decades of experience wince and cringe. The sorts of things you can’t even conceive of if you hadn’t seen them yourself.

The first time I watched a child die, she looked like me. It was an accident, and I know this because the men in their black clothes and black masks with their blue eyes peering over and through were swearing and yelling at the one responsible for her death. I never knew her name, but her blonde hair was lighter than mine, and her eyes more of a grey than a blue. Her neck snapped like a gunshot and I froze when her body went limp. The girl next to me, perhaps barely five, screamed. The one on my other side, a girl no older than me, with hair longer than mine and a darker shade of gold than mine, stood stoic, her bright blue eyes barely welling with tears. When they punished the screaming girl mere seconds after the sound had been ripped from her lungs, I copied the older girl out of desperation. I had grown used to cutting out my emotions by now, what was a bit more going to do to me? My inner world sky now held a single star. I named that girl Star in my mind. Her hair was like a halo, fluffy like angels wings. It seemed fitting. I’ll never, ever forget her. I cannot unsee her. I have never been able to grieve her.

Many more stars were added over the course of months and years, a sky full of them, twinkling down upon my system, them none the wiser of who they represented. The girl with the doe-brown eyes, I called her Bambi. The girl who compulsively tore out her hair and was so very tall for being only nine, I called her Willow. They all had nicknames in my mind, all the ones I could see well enough and for long enough to name. For those that I couldn’t, their stars shined the brightest, my grief for them more intense than the heat of a supernova. Nameless stars for nameless girls.

Many of them were named various shades of colors, after what they were wearing, or the color of their skin or hair. Most often I used the colors of their eyes, something I almost always saw. Something I never looked away from, even in their final moments when I wanted to look away.

I made a promise to my first star, that I would never look away. Looking away meant punishment anyway, but even if it didn’t, I wouldn’t. I may never know their real name if they even had one, but I would know them by the color of their eyes.

Honey, Golden, Oak, Leaf, Moss, Ocean, Mist, Bluejay.

The eyes always told me what their screams could not. Their screams were pleas for help they knew wouldn’t come, but their eyes said WITNESS ME and I bore witness to them. NEVER FORGET ME and I never forgot them. LIVE FOR ME and I lived for them.

I taught myself more colors in art class at school so I could find more names to give. There would always be names to give. Perhaps this is why I became an artist. Every time I mix new colors on the palette, dip brush to oil and brush to paint and put paint to canvas, I remember the shades of eyes I saw, who begged me to be their eyewitness. Their eyes cover my canvases. Perhaps this is why I’ve always liked the colors blue, green, and brown in my artworks.

I see their eyes everywhere I go. In the moss clinging to tree bark during an afternoon walk, in the slicked brown leaves after an autumn thunderstorm, in the clear sky on a balmy summer’s day, in the honey I put in my tea when I have a cold, and in my morning coffee.

You’d think this would make me hate going outside, but nature is my favorite place to be. You’d think this would make me stop seeing color in everything I do, but I can’t help but gaze at the colorful world around me. After all, wouldn’t it make me sad to see the cinnamon on my toast and remember the exact way a girl was dismembered before me? Maybe for some this would be true, but not for me.

To me this is the best way I can bring these girls with me along in my life, in this way, it feels like they’re growing with me. In this way, it feels like they’re now an eyewitness to MY life, a life I promised I would live for them.

I always keep my promises.

[detransition]

from dickevandyke The other day a friend of mine said they hardly even consider me detrans because I "didn't really do anything to detransition". I didn't ask what they meant by that, because they're not really the kind of person I can have that sort of conversation with. I didn't want to have to explain to them why I detransitioned. I didn't want to have to justify finally feeling okay with myself after spending my teenage years being miserable and stressed about being trans.

It's kind of a fascinating mindset, though. I think it gives really wonderful insight as to how their brain works. Like, I stopped taking testosterone. I stopped asking to be referred to by male pronouns. I "came out" as a woman, and I Came Out as a Lesbian after also spending most of my teenage years trying very hard to repress my attraction to women. This person doesn't view that as doing anything. Why?

I imagine it's because I dress fairly masculine - as Butches generally do. I wear still wear, mostly, "boyish clothes". I didn't start wearing make-up. I didn't let my hair grow out long. I haven't done any voice training, or really made an effort to make my voice higher pitched like it was before. I haven't gotten breast implants. I rarely correct people when they call me "sir". I don't need to do any of those things. A stranger calling me "sir" doesn't mean I am not a woman. Not having breasts anymore doesn't mean that I'm not a woman. The point of my detransition was not to turn myself into a stereotype or to dive head-first into femininity.

The point of my detransition was just that I am finally comfortable with myself, just as I am. That doesn't mean that I love my body, but I am okay with it. I am at peace with who I am.

Do I regret getting a mastectomy? Yes. There was no other reason to remove my breasts, they were perfectly fine, they were small and didn't cause me any back pain, I didn't have any medical issues related to them. Do I regret wearing a binder? Absolutely. It has screwed up my ribs and back so severely that I am probably going to be living with chronic pain for the rest of my life. Do I regret going on HRT? Sometimes, sometimes not. Honestly, it didn't really change much for me outside of my voice and making my body hair slightly thicker. Do I regret social transition? Absolutely. I dug myself into such a deep hole of self loathing and repression that it took me three years to finally crawl out of it. So after going through all of that - after putting myself, my body through all of that, why would I want to do it all over again in the opposite direction, when there is absolutely no need for it?

I "didn't do anything to detransition" because I don't need to do anything to be a woman, I just am one. Woman is my natural state. I "didn't do anything to detransition" because I already put my body through three years of cross-sex hormones, five-ish years of binding, and an unnecessary mastectomy which has left me unable to feel most of my chest more than a year post-op. I don't need more unnecessary surgeries or expensive treatments to make myself into a woman, I never really stopped being one. Getting breast implants wouldn't make me more of a woman because I don't need breasts to be a woman. Voice training to make my voice a higher pitch again won't make me more of a woman because a high pitched voice was never what made me a woman in the first place. Wearing make-up, growing out my hair, wearing "girly" clothes wouldn't make me more of a woman, because femininity does not make a woman.

I didn't argue with them when they said that because, to be honest, I don't want to hear what they think makes a woman. I don't want to hear them trying to justify why they barely consider me detrans because I have not tried to turn myself into a feminine stereotype. It just really struck a chord with me, because if I'm not really detrans to them, am I really a woman to them? Or do they see me as some kind of "failed" woman because despite explicitly and openly accepting my womanhood, I am not their picture of what a woman is suppose to be?

thinking of detransition? you are not alone

[winterfrostlovetriangle]

This drabble/fic - I'm not sure what the proper name is called - was inspired by this post. It struck a chord and I wanted to write something fluffy with Bucky. I didn't have a beta reader, so please excuse any mistakes.

Hands and Knives

Summary: Fluffy fic about Bucky and reader. There really isn't a plot, just cute fluffy and boosting of Bucky.

Pairings: Bucky x female reader

Warnings: None

You sat across from your friend, smiling at him sweetly, as you listened to him intently. The two of you were enjoying a night at your apartment - talking, laughing, and surrounded by snacks and beer bottles. Since he couldn’t get drunk and you were only a social drinker, you tended to keep your fridge stocked with his favorite kind of booze. You and the super soldier got together every Friday night, either at your place or his as a way to catch up on the week and to destress from life. Usually, you entertained him with stories of your students which would make him laugh and smile. It was rare to see Bucky smile, a real smile that is, and you absolutely loved it. 

Every so often, Bucky would confide in you. He would share his pain, his secrets, and memories. You always listened carefully, giving advice or simply holding him when he cried. You shared personal things with him too, but you knew it was a bigger deal for him to talk about those things. Tonight was one of those nights. He must have been feeling particularly lonely. His eyes were watery and his face somber. 

“I know better than anyone that I’m more accustomed to holding a knife than holding someone’s hand. I haven’t been with anyone in a really long time and…”

You smile sympathetically and place your hand on his metal one, tearing up at his confession. It cut you to the quick.  

“You’re a great guy, Buck. You’ll meet the right person one day…” Your chest tightened at the thought. Woah, where did that come from? You shake your head slightly before continuing. 

“I’m sure you will find someone, you just have to open your heart first and let them in. And maybe the reason you’re more accustomed to holding a knife is because you haven’t found the right hand to hold.”

You looked down at the vibranium hand, stroking the warm metal thoughtfully. You had always been fascinated by how it looked and felt, never shying away from it when Bucky moved it or used it. 

“Y/N…”

Looking up into Bucky’s face, you saw amusement and bewilderment flash across his face. His eyes lingered on your face, studying it, looking for something. He smiled then nibbled his bottom lip as his eyes wandered down to your mouth. Or did they? You couldn’t tell. Maybe you had imagined it. 

“People are afraid of my arm, though. Or they just want me to lift heavy shit so they can take a picture and post it on Tickblr or whatever it’s called.”

“It’s…oh never mind, that’s not important,” you giggled. “Not everyone is afraid of it, Bucky, or into taking pictures of you lifting “heavy shit.” Your arm is fascinating in how it works and looks.” Taking his arm in your hands, touching and examining it as you continued. “You’d think because it’s metal that it would be cold but it isn’t. It’s warm and soft and sleek.”

Bucky watches you carefully again, looking for any signs that you’re lying but can’t find anything. It amazed him when you two first met that you didn’t cower at his arm. Your eyes widened, not in fear, but in awe as you studied it. He didn’t understand your fascination with it and was careful for a long time around you. Then he started to notice that you sat or walked on his left side whenever you were together. He wanted to ask why but never did, hoping you’d explain it to him yourself, but you didn’t. After a while, Bucky stopped thinking about it altogether until tonight. 

“Y/N, why aren’t you afraid of my arm?”

You looked at him and chuckled. “Did you hear anything I just said? I find it fascinating, Bucky. Sure you can use it as a weapon, but it’s nothing to be feared. It should be celebrated for its craftsmanship…for the power that it holds - for how it works. I know that you would never hurt me. I knew that the day we met. You aren’t a born killer. You were used, abused, and made into one. You are a man, Buck. A man who deserves to be loved and cherished and made to feel like an actual human being. You aren’t the Winter Soldier anymore, you are James Buchanon Barnes,” you smile at him tenderly. “You are a good man, Bucky. You are...I wish you saw yourself how I see you and how Steve sees you. You need to accept who you were in the past and figure out what you want now that you can be and do whatever the hell you want to. Don’t let the sins of the past keep you from moving on and having a good, long life.”

You clear your throat and blush, glancing down at his hand again, muttering an apology for your rambling. Bucky lifts your chin to look at him. He had tears running down his face and his expression was soft and vulnerable. 

“Y-you really think that?” 

You nod and lean into his hand as he caresses your cheek. 

“I guess I’ve wanted to say that for a long time and didn’t have an opportunity until now.”

Bucky smiles again, pulling you into his lap, pressing his lips to yours in a tender, loving kiss. You pull back, your cheeks flushed. 

“What was that for?”

He takes your hand in his metal one and intertwines your fingers together. 

“I think I’ve finally found the right hand to hold…”