#did i get them all. is that all of them. i think thats all of them that are appearing here

[mediumcutsteak]

Its really really sad. I'm in English Education and the amount of people using AI to write papers or summarize the texts that theyre supposed to read is like full blown nihilism. I'm admittedly not the most well-read person and I will fully admit that, and life is hard and time is low, but at least I'm out here making an effort to READ like the English Major I'm supposed to be.

Meanwhile, My professors have been sort of... Mixed about ai i guess? Because we're being trained to like, grade papers and shit theyve had us use GenAI to like, compare output to our own work so we can recognize it better, which I think is fair game considering the field even if it still sucks. Then some of them will be like "use magic school ai to throw together quick layouts for worksheets and stuff" which is like... I mean I dont want to make or purchase the worksheets either but i dont know that its worth using the 'kill earth button' to generate a bunch of boxes on a document. They try to be hawkish about AI use to generate a whole paper but kids still use it to outline and shit. It really sucks.

We just did a whole unit in my Teaching Shakespeare class about AI output in relation to our reading of Hamlet, everyone agreed that the AI output was substandard and shallow (its better than I thought it would be I'll admit, but it still wrote like a D grade paper, which is really fuckin unimpressive considering its writing about a massively influential, thoroughly discussed text thats like 400 years old or whatever and it still couldnt outpace the handwritten essays we had to throw together in 40 minutes by hand with no computers or books or anything to cite from so we could compare them, in OKLAHOMA of all education systems). Despite this, theres at LEAST one guy in my class who STILL insists on using AI at every available turn despite LITERALLY BEING MADE TO SEE THAT ITS QUALITY IS SUBSTANDARD.

And this is in the education field. Sorry ya'll but if we can't get some major legislation on this shit yesterday, or if the AI doesn't reach a noticeable slop singularity soon, this planet is cooked. Not nation, planet. Literally and intellectually.

ur future nurse is using chapgpt to glide thru school u better take care of urself

[topluvr]

https://www.tumblr.com/topluvr/774755990647226368/husbandkwon-ji-yong-x-wifereader-headcanons-an?source=share

hey girly could you make a T.O.P version of this??

husband!choi seung-hyun x wife!reader headcanons

Warnings: fluff

★Reassuring your husband Seung-Hyun. You and Seung-Hyun were currently having a movie night, you loved having nights like this with him it doesn't happen often as you both are busy with work most of the time. You were both on the couch, your head resting against his shoulder and a blanket pulled over your bodies. Suddenly the movie was interrupted by a phone ringing, you sit up and see its Seung hymns phone. "Sorry baby I have to take this". He apologised kissing your lips before leaving the room. He returns 15 minutes later, his mood slightly changed which you noticed. "Everything okay?" You ask giving him a soft smile. "Yeah I urm got offered a role in a show." He replied quietly. "Thats amazing seunghyun." you smiled at the news, your smile slightly disappearing when your saw your husbands face. “Thats good news isn't it?" you say, he sighs and walks to sit back next to you on the couch. "Yeah its good but I don't think im going to accept it." He says looking up at you, You immediately knew why he was acting like this he always overthinks and he just doesn't think he deserves certain things. "Hey, stop overthinking you know you deserve this more then anyone, I think this is a perfect opportunity for you to get back into acting." You say reaching out to hold his hand in yours. "I know, its just I don't want anyone to be affected by my past." He confessed squeezing your hand. "Seung Hyun you've learnt from your mistakes and you have fans who support and love you so much, and I know they would love to see you acting again. As for the other people who can't let what you did go, you need to ignore them they just want to bring you down baby."

★Reacting to seung-hyuns new hair. You were currently finishing up cleaning the dishes, seunghyun was on his first day of set after years, he got a role to be apart of the squid game cast he’s been extremely nervous and at one point almost declined, but you reassured him and told him how proud you were that he took the opportunity. You heard the front door open. “sweetheart?” He spoke out. “I’m in the kitchen.” You said, you heard his steps come closer to the kitchen where you were washing the last couple of dishes. you heard his footsteps stop. “seunghyun?” You ask turning around. “close your eyes y/n i have a surprise.” He laughed, you close your eyes and wait for him. “okay their closed.” You giggle, You hear his foot steps come into the kitchen where he eventually made his way over to you. “okay open.” He finally spoke out, you open your eyes and gasp when you see his hair, his own natural color now replaced with a bright purple. “Wow, i love it.” You say reaching your hand out to put your fingers through it. “really? it’s for my new role.” He smiled relaxing into your touches. “mhm it’s really hot.” You smirk causing him to let a small chuckle. “Thank you baby.” He said pulling you closer to him by your waist, he smiled at you before connecting his lips to yours.

★Your husband Seung Hyun making you taste test his wine. Seunghyun was currently placing 4 boxes of wine on the counter in front of you. He recently decided to start up a wine company, you supported him all the way through it and you are so proud of him. So today he wanted you both to taste test the wines. “Thank you for helping me with this baby, and for being my wine taste tester.” He smiled pulling two wine glasses from the kitchen cabinet. “I won’t say no to free wine.” You giggle watching him open and pour the first bottle of wine. Once the glasses were to the same amount seunghyun gave you a glass, You thanked him and downed the whole glass quickly. “Aish y/n, calm down you’re meant to savour the flavours.” He said with a serious tone, you laugh at his tone. “Oops”. After he finished his wine he opened the second bottle and poured the wine into the glasses again. “This one is more fruity and sweet.” He explained taking a sip and letting it stay in his mouth for a few seconds before swallowing. You followed his actions taking a smaller sip then last time, you swirled the wine around your mouth pretending to be professional, Seunghyun laughed at your actions. “so how is it?” He asked with raised eyebrows waiting for you to reply. “I really like this one, it’s my favourite so far.” you smiled taking another sip. After you tried every wine with seunghyun you were now slightly tipsy. “I’m so proud of how far you’ve come seunghyun.” You told your husband, he laughed at your drunken words. “Thank you sweetheart, i think you’ve had a bit too much wine.” His hand came to your face gently stroking it. “It’s your fault.” You pouted looking into his eyes, his eyes meet yours and he leaned in to press a peck on your nose.

A/N: HII THANK YOU SM FOR THE SUPPORT ON MY LAST POST❤

[zeropro]

can i kindly ask for a summary of how time is measured in your au? mostly the cycle/year stuff, im not sure if it's lifted from elsewhere or your own creation — either way i think it's really cool :) world building is awesome

very sorry if you've already gone over this elsewhere

Oh sure! I spent way too long figuring this out so i might as well explain it.

The cybertronian calendar goes in one direction forever unless a new Prime decides to reset it. Nova Prime reset the calendar when he declared the new Golden Age of Expansion, which is why Megatron’s canon Birthday is so small (1st cycle 012) as he was among the first Cold Constructed mechs onlined, and that started with Nova.

The only unit of measurement that we seem to have solidified is Vorns, which is 83 earth years (earth years=stellar cycle). The calendar’s cycles are measured by vorn, the first number counts vorn, and every 24 vorn the second number ticks up. after 24th cycle 12 it would become 1st cycle 013 and then 2nd cycle 013.

There…actually is no unit of time for the second measurement as far as I can tell, so I have no idea what to call it, but essentially you would say Megatron’s birthday as first cycle O’twelve, and people would know he was born 23904-ish years after Nova Prime’s calendar went in effect.

24 vorns is roughly 2000 years and every 500 dates on the calendar is roughly one million years.

I developed this calendar system based on the actual dates we do have in IDW1, I decided 24 vorns are when the calendar turns over because the war starts about a million years after Megatron’s birth and the canon dates for most of those events are in the 500s. I did have to ignore the single canon date set in the 51st cycle for this, but all the other dates are within the 1 to 14 range. And this is taking into consideration that the calendar probably reset some time under Zeta Prime (which is why the Battle of Sherma Bridge where Megatron and the newly anointed Optimus Prime allegedly duked it out for the first time happens in 2nd Cycle 087 even tho Megatron was beat up by Whirl in jail before the war in 4th Cycle 496). Some of the inconsistencies I also chalk up to some bots still using the old calendar. the only date I really cant figure out is 6th Cycle 356 being confirmed to be “half a million years ago” like?? Eh?? Ultra Magnus’ last fatality was pre earth pretty sure and that happened in the 3800’s (of nova’s calendar pretty sure). Maybe they missed a zero at the end of the date or something idk XD 3560 would make so much more sense for half a million years ago.

Also, 83 years is a long time and it does seem like they have smaller units of dating called chords and arcs but I just assume thats like days and months to us and I cant be bothered to figure it out. not enough info about it anyway. I’m sure one of those tracks stellar cycles and the other tracks cybertronian days.

i think the only other unit of time I've used is deca-cycles, just cuz I like how it sounds. a deca-cycle is about a month, or three weeks.

Megatron and Skywarp were constructed earlier on (012 and 023 respectivly), Thundercracker was constructed closer to when the matrix “ran dry” probably in the 100s, and Starscream was commissioned by Cryak at the end of the millenia, in the late 400s, after they’d stopped constructing seekers entirely. He must not have been more than a few vorns old when he met Thundercracker.

Starscream and Skyfire’s expedition would have taken them 40 on the calendar to get to earth, based on Skyfire’s shuttle speed. Starscream probably would have been able to make it back to cybertron a little bit faster.

I referenced this and this page of the wiki while working on this. Most of my worldbuilding is extrapolation from canon.

yes i did all this for one joke.

A few more timeline stuff: Megatron is about .7 million years older than Starscream, and Starscream is about half a million years older than the start of the war. The war lasted 3 million years before they crash landed on earth after which they went into stasis for one million years. Some time after they landed on earth, Shockwave successfully clones Sunstorm.

and in case you were wondering, sunny's serial code is referencing his Collector's Edition toy's ID number (089). SC stands for Seeker Class. they run out of glyphs slots after 999 so they sort them into batches. Sunny is the 089th frame built in batch 16. whether that means his frame was already built and left empty in storage somewhere and then repurposed by Shockwave, or Shockwave built him from scratch based on the blueprints and just continued the serial code sequence, I haven't decided. but either way, it means there was a finite number of seekers brought into the world and they dont even make up a whole united states city's worth of people. Lots of them are dead by now anyway. The whole cybertronian race is so small now they are all on first name bases with each other XD. But i digress, none of that has to do with time or calendar stuff, just thought it was fun.

thanks for asking!!

[thelov3lybookworm]

Misapprehensions and Confessions (part 2)

(moodboard creds to @sunshinebingo🥹)

Day 2: First Fight

Summary: It has been a regular routine for Gwyn to seek out the spymaster for training. And when he suggests helping her out with getting reaccustomed to society, it doesn't take too much persuasion for Gwyn to agree. But when he doesn't show up one day, Gwyn takes up the liberty to accompany herself into the city.

That one decision is all it takes for it all to fall apart.

•○●⛦●○•

Word Count: 3943

Warnings: angst hehehe, misunderstanding, azzie is a dummy but sweetheart cassian is there to make you happy 💪🏻 a teensy bit of an argument, but i think thats it?

A/n: heres the second part for the mini series for day 2 of @sjmromanceweek❣️ writing the angst was so much fun honestly, LIKE IT GAVE ME LIFE 🥹🥹🥹

once again, it was so good doing this collab with my love @sunshinebingo 🥹 ily so much omg thank you for doing this w me😭🥹

Read on AO3 here

ANYWAYS, ENJOYYYY!!!🥳🥳🥳

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

Gwyn’s pov.

Next week came, but the Shadowsinger did not.

Gwyn had been waiting for almost an hour at their usual meet up spot in one of the sitting rooms in the House of Wind, having snagged a book from the library to flip through as she waited.

She had been excited for the meet up, to say the least. She couldn’t stop wondering where he was going to take her this time after going to the restaurant the previous week. The thought had kept her up all night as she twisted and turned in her sheets.

She had gone the extra mile while getting dressed up too, picking out the teal sweater Azriel had once mentioned made her eyes look brighter. Under that, she wore a pencil skirt with tights, having seen one of the females in Velaris wear something similar. She had thought the female looked pretty, and wanted to see what she looked like in it herself.

She continued to flip the pages of the book, reading and reading, smiling at the words. The story was cute, one of a female who was trying to save her family with the help of her siblings and friends, one of them being her love interest. The banter, the softness they shared made Gwyn long for a similar connection, if not more.

She loved the male love interest a lot, and the fact that he was so similar to one of her own friends did not go unnoticed by Gwyn.

Maybe she will have her own love story one day, with the friend she liked more than she should.

More than friends should like each other.

But with each moment that passed, her eyes stopped reading, and remained unseeing. The tilt of her lips fading as she got lost in her own head. She stared down at the soft, crinkling pages, running her fingers over the edges. They were painted in beautiful shades, depicting a scenery of a mountain from the book.

Pretty.

But not pretty enough to distract her from the absence of a certain Shadowsinger.

Footsteps drew Gwyn from her reverie, and she perked up, her gaze lading on the doors she had left ajar. Hope bloomed in her gut, even as she knew it was not the one she had been expecting coming closer to her.

The footsteps were too heavy, too powerful, to be his.

Still, she waited, she watched, she wished.

She hoped.

And a moment later, Cassian strutted into view, a smile gracing his face when he realised Gwyn was in the room. She returned the smile, willing her disappointment to vanish.

“Gwyn! Good seeing you here!” He paused behind the couch adjacent to the one Gwyn sat on. “I thought you might be down in Velaris, this is a pleasant surprise.”

Gwyn sighed, relaxing into the soft cushions behind her. “Yeah, I thought so too.”

His brows furrowed, and he quickly glanced around the room. “Where’s Az?”

She shrugged, setting the book aside and pushing to her feet. “I don’t know. Maybe he’s busy?”

Cassian’ confusion was palpable as he huffed. “He can never be busy enough to put off your dates.”

“We don’t go on dates.” Gwyn scowled. “They are outings.”

He simply smirked in return, lifting his hands in a placating gesture. “Sure, right. My bad.”

Gwyn’s eyes narrowed as she watched him walk over to the balcony, dusting off her skirt absentmindedly. “Are you going somewhere?”

He glanced back at her, nodding. “Nesta’s at the river house with Feyre and Nyx. Gonna go pick her up.”

Gwyn chewed on her lip as she thought, then her eyes shot to him. “Hey Cass?”

“Hmm?”

“Can you take me down to the city?”

This time he turned to her fully, his brows high on his forehead. “I…what?”

Gwyn rolled her eyes, ignoring the new sadness taking root in her chest at the lack of those playful shadows and their quiet master’s presence. “Do you not want to?”

He took a step forward before pausing, extending his hand. “Oh no, no I would love to. I am just surprised, that’s all.”

Gwyn raised an eyebrow, but moved closer to him to let him pick her up. By this point, she was comfortable enough with him that the spike of fear and anxiety no longer pierced her heart when he was in close proximity to her, and it was just another thing she was proud of herself for.

He gently wound his arms under her knees and back, careful to only touch her where needed, and flapped  his wings once. There was a reason the house built in the mountain was called the House of Wind, because as soon as he lifted from the ground, a powerful gust of wind caught under his wings and sent them soaring. He glided smoothly, his wing muscles beating effortlessly. Five centuries of flying practice truly showed in his skills.

Gwyn had once studied about wings and how they work, reading extensively about Illyrian ones. They had been so fascinating to her then, as they were fascinating to her now. The way they moved always had her mesmerized. Every time she flew with Azriel too, she would either always stare at his wings or the city down below.

Azriel.

Gwyn looked away from Cassian’s wings, instead casting her gaze downwards, towards the ground that rapidly grew closer as he descended. His feet touched the ground with a light thump before he bent slightly and set Gwyn on her feet.

“Are you sure about this, Gwyn?”

She turned to him, nodding. “I am. We go out every week so I can get accustomed to socialising once more.” And just because Gwyn was feeling petty, she added. “I’m not going to mess up my routine just because someone cannot be bothered to inform me before standing me up.”

Cassian’s lips parted, but then he closed them with an amused smirk. “Very proud of you, Gwyn.”

Though his expression was teasing, his words sounded so genuine they nearly brought Gwyn to tears.

“Thank you, Cass.”

“I will likely be here for an hour or two, depending on Nyx’s mood and who he is currently attached to today, so you can just come to the River House if you want to go back.” He clasped her shoulder, smiling. “And even if I’m up there, you can just ask Rhys to get me, yeah?”

Gwyn nodded gratefully. “Of course, thank you again.”

She waited until Cassian had turned away, waving in farewell as he climbed up the steps to one of the majestic houses of the High Lord.

Then she turned, and began wandering down the street.

She gazed at everything she passed by, unwilling to miss even a moment of the sheer beauty of Velaris. The shimmering waters of the Sidra, the golden shadows casted by the dying sun across the ground and the flora, the faelights bobbing gently over the entrances to shops and restaurants. Hawkers selling their wares, fruit stalls next to dessert stalls.

She walked without a destination in mind, her hand bent at a slight angle towards her thigh - where she had strapped her dagger under her skirt- involuntarily, the action muscle memory at this point.

She was lost in thought, wondering what could have been so important that Azriel had not even bothered to inform her. It could have been that he was on an important mission, and that he had no way to contact her. It could have been that he had almost completely forgotten.

Gwyn didn’t know. But she did know that she was mad, and she would not forgive him until he had grovelled enough.

The moment she had the thought, guilt followed. What if he truly was busy and if he had taken time off to send her a letter, he could have been in danger?

She shook her head, trying to dislodge the thought as she glanced around her. She felt tired already, so bored out of her mind without him. She had no idea what she even wanted to do anymore. It would have been better if she had stayed home and completed her projects for Merrill.

Home.

It was such a beautiful, comforting word. The word that had meant nothing to Gwyn for years after her sister was taken from her. It was just that, a word. No meaning, no feelings.

But for quite some time now, since she had met Nesta, since the day Gwyn had dragged herself to the training ring, telling herself over and over that she would be fine, better even, that Cassan would not hurt her, that he wasn’t that kind of a male, a male pathetic enough to force females to feel better about his own self, the word had taken on a new meaning.

Gwyn had learned that home meant more than just four walls and a roof. Home meant friends. Home meant laughing over trivial things, freely and loudly. Home meant warmth.

Home meant Azriel.

She didn’t know when, or how, but slowly, he had become the definition of friend, the laughter, the warmth that made a home, home.

And slowly, the intimidating, lonely walls that had kept her from the scary outside world became so much more.

It was almost dark, the horizon tinting darker and darker with each passing moment, when Gwyn stumbled upon the restaurant that Azriel had taken her to the previous week.

She smiled at the sight of those pristine walls, the memories that surfaced threatening to make her giggle. She walked on, passing by the entrance, the beautiful stars leading up to it.

And she caught a whiff of the smell she had become so familiar with.

It caused her bones to freeze, her muscles stiffening as she turned her head to look.

The interior was still dark, so different compared to the outside. Soft aroma of chicken, rice, herbs, everything drifted out, mixing into such a sweet smell that it would be impossible to not go in.

But yet, under that, was the smell of cedar, of night, of shadows.

Gwyn’s eyes narrowed, and she had only taken a step up the stairs when she saw him.

Past the reception, past a number of tables and chairs and candles, he sat.

At the same spot he had sat with Gwyn.

With the same smile on his face, his eyes soft. His hand under his chin, his lips tilted as he nodded.

At a female. The chair Gwyn had occupied merely seven days ago was now occupied by a female.

She looked like a complete opposite of her.

Curly blonde hair piled spilled down her shoulders, her eyes and skin the prettiest shade of brown. Her figure was curvy, soft, sweet. So unlike Gwyn.

The female wore a strapless tight fitting dress, the material clinging to her like a second skin.

She looked so comfortable, so confident, Gwyn wondered why she ever thought she even stood a chance with Azriel. Of course he’d be interested in someone who was confident in herself, someone who wasn’t afraid to know and show she was pretty.

His words from the previous week floated around in her head amidst the confusion and hurt, solidifying her new beliefs.

“So you like it?”

“Of course I like it! Anyone would love this place. It is so beautiful.”

Had she been only a friend who he wanted the opinion of to impress the female he was actually interested in? Just a guinea pig?

Gwyn’s eyes prickled, and she took a step away, as if simply the sight of Azriel touching the other female’s hand - smiling secretively, his eyes hooded and seductive- would burn her.

Yet she couldn’t look away, not until someone bumped into her shoulder, apologising profusely. She didn’t even look at the fae. She bowed her head in acknowledgement before willing her legs to move. Hoping to leave before Azriel’s shadows - who for some reason were so attuned to her every move that she would find them anywhere she went - reported her presence to their master.

She moved through the thickening crowds, laughing children and flirting adults. Kept pushing herself to walk, to run, back to the River House. She needed to go back. She knew she could not handle any interactions, especially one with Azriel if he found her before she could drown herself in work.

Just when the house came into sight, she slowed down, blinking hard and regulating her breathing. She could see activity inside the house, soft warm light spilling onto the grass under the windows and the porch leading up to the main door, which opened just as she went to knock.

“Gwyn?” Nesta stared at her wide eyed, brows high in surprise.

“Um, hey Nesta.” Gwyn swallowed uneasily.

Instantly, Nesta was alert. “What happened? Did someone do something? Where’s Azriel?”

“Oh, I forgot to tell you Nes. I think Az forgot about their date and Gwyn went into the city alone.” Cassian’s voice answered before Gwyn could, and for that she was grateful, as she wasn’t feeling particularly excited to speak.

Nesta’s eyes hardened as she glanced at her mate. “He mentioned he was going out with a female. Did he not inform you? ” She turned to glare at Gwyn. “And even if he forgot, why the hell did you-”

“Nesta, she is not a child.”

Gwyn’s blood went hot, anger simmering through each vein as she realised he really was on a date. And he had told Nesta, but not her.

She would kill him.

Nesta opened her mouth to speak, then seemed to think the better of it and just pulled Gwyn into a hug. “What happened, Gwyn? Why do you look so spooked?”

Gwyn shook her head as best as she could in her friend’s embrace, her heart finally slowing down slightly at the comforting touch. “Nothing, really. I just got a bit… anxious, that’s all. I just want to go back up.”

Nesta pulled away, nodding and turned to Cassian. “Drop her off at the house please, I can wait.”

“Nesta- no-”

The glare Gwyn received in return was enough to shut her up as Cassian picked her into his arms like she weighed nothing, then shot into the sky.

“She really is scary sometimes, no?”

Gwyn huffed, her lips tilting in a surprised smile. “She was mad when we first met too.”

He laughed, his chest vibrating against Gwyn’s upper arm as she kept her arms folded close to her chest. He quieted after that, his focus solely on the mountain that loomed over them.

He flew towards the main sitting room, which they all used most of the time, as far as Gwyn knew.

But he was not Azriel, and the sitting room was not close to the library.

Just another reminder of how considerate, how attentive Azriel had always been to her. Of how he forgot about her today.

But no, she wouldn’t spend her day thinking about him anymore. Not when he couldn’t even bother to let her know he was going on a real date.

That he was ditching her for the one who he actually wanted.

She bid a goodbye to Cassian, not waiting to see him fly off before she retreated to the dorm she shared with her fellow priestesses, pulling out the large tomes she had been assigned to read through and summarise.

But she knew she wouldn’t be able to focus.

Not with him occupying her thoughts.

Az's pov

Something was wrong. 

Azriel had considered many things in order to understand what was bothering him so much. 

Last night's mission had gone fine; the female he had to seduce to get important intel an easy one to flirt with to get her to talk, even when his entire being had recoiled at his sweet talking and his suggestive touches. Even his shadows had felt uncomfortable and had hissed after every few minutes of the interaction. But it had been a necessity for his job, his duty towards his court. The accomplishment of this mission should have filled him with relief and a sense of freedom from something he had felt reluctant towards from the start. But still…

Rhys and Feyre had thanked him for the information he had gathered that day. Azriel didn't need their thanks for having done something that was expected of him, although having the validation of his High Lord and Lady had been nice. But still…

Something was wrong. 

You know what, one of his shadows whispered. The only one that had bothered speaking to him since his mission with that female. All the others were still oddly silent, leaving that one - the same one which had always favoured Gwyn since they all met her - to occasionally use its voice to throw some scathing comments at him.

Azriel sighed after one of his daggers hit one of the dummies in the training ring. 

“Yes. I know,” he muttered, even with no one but the moon and his silent shadows to hear him.

At least he thought.

Footsteps sounded at the doorway, before the source of Azriel’s troubled mind walked onto the training area. An intense wave of emotion washed over him; hope, relief, joy, excitement…awe.

Gwyn looked breathtaking under the starry sky, the night making her look even more fierce as she walked determinedly to the weapons rack clad in skin tight leathers.

Azriel stood still for a moment, unable to move as he watched his shadows - every single one of them - rush to her. Gwyn giggled at their excited dance around her. He heard her whisper something to them but couldn't make out what it was. He mentally called for his shadows to come back to him. None listened. 

“Uh… hey,” he finally blurted out.

Gwyn turned to him then. Azriel felt a heavy weight drop in his stomach at the apathetic look in her eyes. His heart constricted with fear and worry, so much that he immediately began walking towards her.

“What happe-”

“Hi,” she cut his question off. Her dry tone stopped him in his tracks.

“Are you alright?”

Something flickered in her eyes for a second before she turned her back to him, took a deep breath in, then out, and picked up a few daggers from the rack. 

“I'm fine,” she gritted out without looking at him.

Azriel frowned in confusion.

The hell she was.

He hadn't seen her at training this morning, hadn't caught a single glimpse of her anywhere for the entire day, hadn't heard the sound of her voice. And now that she was here before him, the usual light missing from her eyes and her posture stiff as though from restraint, she dared say that she was fine?

Gwyn walked past him, his shadows trailing behind, and stopped a distance away from the dummies in which the daggers he had thrown earlier were still embedded.

He followed.

“You can lie to anyone about this, Gwyn, but you can't deceive me.”

Her first dagger flew and landed in a dummy's throat. She let out a humorless laugh.

“Is this tonight's lesson then? Lies and deception?”

She threw another dagger, this one lodging itself in the centre of the dummy's chest.

Azriel looked at Gwyn from head to toe, hoping to find answers to the growing mystery unfolding before him. He desperately wished to know what was happening to her. He needed to make her feel better. Azriel needed his Gwyn back.

“Gwyn please,” he took a few steps until he stood right in front of her. His shadows remained closer to her. “What is happening?”

The sadness that darkened her eyes as she looked at him made him feel like the dummy, this invisible weapon sinking straight into his heart. It twisted deeper inside him with the tears that he noticed pooling in her eyes.

He brought a hand up and cupped her cheek. “My Gwyn,” he whispered, unaware that it had made it out of his mouth. 

Her teal eyes fixed on his hazel ones, searching. For what, he did not know? But he was certain that he was ready to give her anything. Before he could give in to the urge to pull her into his arms, anger flashed on her face. 

She grabbed his wrist and pulled his hand away. 

“Don't,” she said as she put more distance between them. 

Azriel didn't hear what she murmured to his shadows due to the beating of his heart resonating in his ears and which drowned out every other sound. He didn't even acknowledge them slithering back to him. He only watched Gwyn run away and disappear through the doorway. 

Azriel stood there, frozen and stunned. Until he felt his shadows smack him in the face, their shadowy forms conveniently solid for a task like this. 

Idiot master, hissed the one shadow.

Is that all you have to say? He scowled at it. What would have been more helpful was if they told him what was wrong and how he could fix things with Gwyn. But that was apparently not in their plans. 

I'm going with her, was all it said before it floated away. The others stayed. They remained silent, leaving Azriel alone with his thoughts. 

The conversation - or was it an argument? He wasn't sure - replayed over and over in his head, even as he descended the stairs down into the House of Wind. He was so distracted that he didn't notice Cassian until he almost crashed into the chair he sat in at the living room table.

“Whoa! You alright here brother?” Cass asked, his mouth full of the cake he had a huge slice of on his plate. 

Azriel pulled the chair next to Cassian and sat down. He pulled Cassian’s plate towards him and snatched his fork right out of his hand.

“I'm fine,” he said. He winced at the memory of those same words coming from Gwyn. The dread he hadn't realised he had been feeling worsened at the mere thought of her name. 

He dug into Cassian's midnight snack, shoving a forkful of cake into his mouth.

“You don't have anything to do with Gwyn rushing down the stairs to the library like the house is on fire do you?” Cassian stared at him with raised brows.

Azriel looked at him. “What…?” was all he managed to ask with his full mouth.

What is happening to her, to us? What did I do? How do I fix this? 

His shadows still remained silent.

Cassian stared at him while rubbing his chin.

“Listen, I'm only asking because she hasn't seemed well since she went out alone yesterday.”

Azriel suddenly felt like he was swallowing stones. “What?” he asked incredulously. 

What is he talking about? 

His shadows did not answer him again. But Cassian thankfully did.

“She insisted that she didn’t mind you missing one of your dates,” he put the last word between air quotes, “but her face told another story.”

Cassian kept talking, telling him how Gwyn had looked when she had joined them at the River House after.

Something clicked inside him. The fork he held fell on the table, its clatter echoing in the room.

Finally, his shadows muttered collectively.

“You're more dense than I thought.” Cassian shook his head, disappointment lacing his words as he dragged the plate back to him.

Azriel’s eyes widened. His heart pounded in his chest. His mind raced in panic.

He fucked up. And now he was paying for it, he realised. He needed to fix this. He had to if he wanted Gwyn back. And Azriel was willing to do anything.

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

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[dreamin4smth]

Maria Robotnik VS Sonic 3

So I watched Sonic 3 last december and I can’t stop thinking abt it. Especially what they did with the Shadow and Maria story, so now Ive come here to speak my mind and go through just how GOOD of an adaption they are in the movie. Holy shit. That was wild.

Ill be comparing Game!Maria and Movie!Maria and how their characters work in the story. Im sure there are hundreds of analyzis out there of them that might be saying the same things I will. Idk I havent watched any, but these are my own thoughts Ive gathered from watching the movies and the games. So I hope they make as much sense to you as they do to me lmao.

Because, good lord, it must have been difficult for the writers to handle the question “how do you adapt the story of a hedgehog made by the blood of space alien colonizers all in favour of saving sick child from dying?“

What did the writers do? Well lets see.

To understand the difference between Movie!Maria and Game!Maria we need to understand what Maria as a character does to the story. So lets start there.

Game!Maria

Maria robotnik in the games serves a special roll that promotes her to something more than just a character. Game Maria is a symbol. Her story is set from the moment we learn of her, and her character is more there for plot reasons rather than being an independent veichle in her story. The Maria we meet is soft spoken, compassionate, a fanatic and an inspiration for Shadow. She’s dressed in blue with golden hair and with a leap in her step. There is little fault to be found in her because thats not what she’s ment to be. Maria is a representation of innocence.

She’s a sick child who wishes for everyone on earth to be happy, and all of this is ment to lead you to the horrors of her then being killed. But the point is, Maria in the games is stagnant. She represents the life that Shadow had on the ARK, but more importantly, she represents SHADOWS innocence. Maria as a character is not her own story but rather a subpart of Shadows, and that is where we find the biggest difference with the Games and the movie. Dont even get me started on the almost religious imagery that follows her around. I mean, her names MARIA. Her roll is to be the center of love in Shadow’s life. Shes a sister, a best friend and even motherly at times. And while Shadow generations definetly gives us more of a laid back version of her, we can still see her maintain that untouchable rightousness that makes her character almost age-less. In a sense. She’s a child to highlight her innocence, yet in all other terms she really isn’t. Game Maria is an idea.

So what does the movies do then?

Movie!Maria

Sonic 3 saw all this and decided to do smth a bit different. To introduce such a compex narrative in a movie for children would definetly have been... Difficult, so instead they tone down the version a bit and make it their own thing. Who does Maria become? She becomes a CHARACTER.

Movie Maria is a child who is going to be living at a base filled with adults and scientists. She walks into the first scene with caution and nervousness, and yet as she meets Shadow, she finds a kin. And who we meet is a Maria that is goofy, mischevous, gleeful and daring. She’s a child here. She builds blanket forts, throws pop-corn at her brother, makes him driver her around on roller-skates and plays the guitar. Movie Maria is not ment to represent more than what she is, and still, it works. Movie Maria is innocent but she’s not the definition of it. She’s a person that shadow lost rather than an idea that he lost. The Maria we meet in the movie is a moving character that was abruptly stopped by external forces. She was always ment to have a future and a story, and yet she lost that. Movie Maria’s tragedy lies in her lost potential while Game Maria’s tragedy lies in her inevitable outcome. This also creates a difference in what they do to Shadows own personal journey, which ill get into more later.

So before that one more thing I love that they do with Movie Maria is that they still let her keep that inspirational part. She’s the one to inteoduce the line “the light shines even though the star is gone“ to Shadow and unknowingly ends up helping Shadow in his grief. While Game Maria is activly trying to bring positive change to Shadow’s life, Movie Maria uninentionally does that simply by showing kindness and love. She is still Shadows sister who was always there for him and loved him, just in a different light. She is still his moral compass. Shadow can be a good person because of her impact on his life, and in my opinion, as long as she fits the afformentioned categories then Maria can be whatever the writers want her to be.

So last but not least, lets talk abt her sickness.

Maria’s Sickness

Game Maria is deathly sick. Her days are numbered until a cure can be found, and the only hope left for her is Shadow. This creates a dependency between the two because suddenly, Shadow’s life isnt his own. He is alive for and because of Maria. She’s a part of his identity, so what happens when he loses that part of himself? This internal conflict directly influences Shadow’s self worth. Shadow is as much angry for losing her as he’s angry for losing himself. The very reason to why he says “goodbye shadow the hedgehog“ in Shadow 05 is because he can no longer be the same person after losing Maria. His goals and his dreams are haltered when the ARK gets invaded, ans it all leads back to Maria’s sickness.

Which is why... Well... The fact that the movie removes this part of Maria sure is... A choice.

And while I understand that showing a sick child who is then killed by the military would probbaly raise a few eyebrows from adults, that still doesnt change the fact that a very unique and important part of Shadows story was removed.

Movie Maria is there more or less on her own ackord. She has a future ahead of her. Her and Shadows relationship isn’t built on mutual depenency but rather as a circumstantional one. Which still works, dont get me wrong, but it does make the story just a tad more generic. Shadow is no longer angry for losing such a big part of his identity, he’s just doing the former part now. Grieving the most important person in his life, as well as his home.

This hardly ruins the story ofc, its just a different take on the story that, in all fairness, fits the vibe of the movie better. Bringing in terminal illness and conversations around that would definetly be a tough one. And because of them making Maria more of a character now it still works. She’s already an innocent and tragic character. She’s not ment to be innocence and tragedy incarnate like she is in the games. You get the point.

All in all. Almost perfect adaption of Maria in my opinion. I love movie Maria and it was such a clever way to go with the character. She and Shadow will always have a special place in my heart.

Hope you liked my little thought essay. I can talk abt Sonic characters all damn day 🫶

[shazzbaa]

I'm sorry bit I just love the idea of Poor Edward thinking he's hot shit with his creepy gifts and deranged letters, then here comes Samuel who's even more fucked up than him, looking for some homoerotic stabbing while Edward cries. Baby faced loser just cannot handle an experienced freak.

LAKSJDFLASEKJES INCREDIBLE ASK TO RECEIVE, THANK YOU

but okay listen I think they're on different freaky axes. Stalking, sending someone your skin in the mail, getting possessive and jealous enough to kidnap their baby, those are all ROMANTIC freak activities. Samuel did not get the skin and go "pff, amateur, get on my level," LIKE HE WAS PRETTY DISTURBED TO GET EDWARDS SKIN IN THE MAIL. and then Sam is not really romantically inclined, he is just SEXUALLY freaky (calling him an "experienced freak" absolutely delights me but I don't know if this is true, he DOES like homoerotic stabbing but hes still a confused and repressed Victorian gentleman) while Edward simply does not seem to be sexually inclined at all?? TBH I pretty strongly headcanon him as asexual just based on how he handles love and marriage... So they're just on different tracks.

BUT HONESTLY?? IM NOT EVEN SURE THATS THE ISSUE. gets fully sidetracked with my Poor Edward Is A Kinky Ace headcanons

Thoughts & Evidence: - pain/injury: top - he "dislikes butchery" and seems to have a flair for causing psychological terror over simple murder, but causing people real tangible pain is the one thing he truly misses in his happiest ending. - restraint/confinement: switch - hes SO fixated on the coffin thing but ALSO in That One Very Normal Silverer Option hes fine playing along when YOU restrain HIM, it's only when you threaten to murder him that he actually freaks out - control; dom/sub: bottom - this never occurred to me during the ambition but makes a lot of sense in retrospect... he wants a master to pledge himself to and he's not sure if you're going to take that slot or not so he flips back and forth between pitching himself as a loyal henchman and a sadistic tormentor as he tries to capture your affection. But the only way to actually be with him is to fully take control, to essentially tell him "new plan: i do whatever I want, and you lock yourself in this building until I get back <3" and he's SO HAPPY TO DO IT.

All this to say that like, there's a couple of actual obstacles here, but neither of them are "erotic stabbing is too much for Edward." HE just doesn't wanna get murdered! BUT LIKE THATS PERFECTLY COMPATIBLE, SAMUEL IS ON BOARD FOR BEING THE GUY GETTING LOVINGLY MURDERED!!!!

I strongly suspect the actual obstacles here are: (a) Sam is too much of a bottom to be Poor Edward's master but also (b) Poor Edward is chemically impaired. In the whole first chunk of Light Fingers he's grabbing you constantly, easily overpowers you, and has NO PROBLEMS inflicting death as long as it's not permanent, but after the moon-milk he NEVER TOUCHES YOU AGAIN unless/until you actually consent to the wedding. THIS IS A FASCINATING DETAIL TO ME. He's clearly frustrated with you at points and trying to force your hand, and he doesn't seem to mind you getting hurt in the Nightmare-Orphanage when he's not the one doing it; can he just not bear to attack you himself????? ARE HE AND SAMUEL BOTH EQUALLY FRUSTRATED BY HIS INABILITY TO JUST FIGHT SAM

[berryliciouspie]

ᢉ𐭩 arcane hot take y'all hate on mel for stupid reasons.

a long yap💔💔

MEL.. IMO SHES DONE NOTHING WRONG GET BEHIND ME MEL!!! /hj mel did manipulated jayce subconsciously.. stay with me now!! she was literally raised to be like that and when jayce confronted her abt it the way she said "investments" you can tell thats just how she IS and how shes been brought up and she doesn't see wrong in it when it is useful BUT i think she genuinely loved jayce because who says "i wont let them ruin ur dream" HHELLLLO. she knew a war was coming she just had to play her cards props to her 💔

she is a good character because shes literally the daughter of a woman whos entire being is based on war and taught her to do anything to get what she needed but she still has her morals which is painfully obvious COUGH COUGH THE LAST EPISODES COUGH.

honestly for the people who say they dont like her because she did manipulate jayce i like them better then the hoes who say "SHE GETS IN THE WAY OF JAYVIK" because they at least have a valid reason like bro we left girls in shows getting way of ships in 2018 with bakudeku you fucking gooner LEAVEEE.

also are we forgetting baby ekko manipulated jayce bye. /hj. also i wrote all this cus someone said i was ableist for liking mel because APPARENTLY she's ableist ..??? pls go outside. and they were a caitlyn fan i dont wanna hear it

ok moral of the yap mel did manipulate but its not the worse thing that has happened in arcane. jinx caitlyn silco and others have done a lot worse yet i dont see the same amount of cult hate that MAY BE A LITTLE.. MOTIVATED.. BY A CERTAIN FACTOR.. COUGH COUGH.

shes so cute how can anyone hate my black queen #ilymel #melisme

all opinions don't jump me 💗💖

[noellez-best-life23]

Did he just—? aww poor bucky

ok i love that the reader noticed he wasn't ok and helped him in the bathroom and with the whole thing to help him ground himself

So even if Barnes thought you were bluffing and just trying to relate for the sake of kindness, he was wrong. Because you understood. man they have such a similar history its sad maybe thats why fury sent them together

“I don’t think people like us get to be normal,” you said finally, choosing your words carefully. well this whole part was sad with what bucky said that hurt the reader and everything getting to this part

this was soo good i felt so many emotions in reading this the whole smut part was kinda sweet with the reader making sure bucky was ok and had safe word and all i kept doing was going back and forth between bucky and the reader and being like aww poor bucky and poor reader just really felt bad for them and just wanted to give them hugs

lessons in lovemaking [one-shot]

marvel au bucky x blackwidow!reader You and Bucky Barnes go undercover as a married couple, but when a fake kiss gets too real, he unexpectedly finishes in his pants—leaving you both stunned.

Warnings: 18+ content minors dni, smut, fem reader, dry humping, grinding, soft dom vibes reader, soft sub vibes bucky, bucky is touch starved, premature ejaculation, reader has dubious methods of emotional control, vague mentions of previous sa, ex black widow reader, mentions of red room, very consensual, safe words, kissing, panic attacks, bucky barnes needs a hug, if you squint, there's some plot, fluff, angst, mentions of past violence, death and war, no use of y/n, lmk if i've missed anything

Word Count: 8.4k

A/N: hey guys, i'm a woman possessed. i've had so much motivation to write recently, so here is a quick one-shot. i'm sure this concept has been done before but i just couldn't stop thinking about touch starved bucky :( ! sorry for any typos - not proof read.

main masterlist

You never would’ve agreed to this mission had you known Barnes was going to be this squeamish. You’d seen the man slit throats without a sound, drop bodies with cold efficiency, and unload an entire chamber of bullets without so much as flinching. He hadn’t even blinked when aliens from outer-fucking-space rained hell upon Earth. But holding your hand? Letting his fingers brush your waist? Anything a devoted ‘husband’ ought to do? The super soldier looked like he’d rather swallow glass. He couldn’t even meet your gaze, for god’s sake.

What the hell had Fury been thinking?

You had to yank him away before anyone noticed the strained—Help me, I’m being held hostage by this incredibly attractive, incredibly capable woman who, might I add, is supposedly my wife—look on his face.

This gala, a weeklong jerkfest for the wealthy and villainous, was meant to be a stroll in the park. Your bread and butter, even if the Red Room had been... regrettable and against your consent, it had taught you an array of useful skills. Yet Barnes was ruining it, turning what should have been a simple infiltration into a goddamn babysitting job. The plan was airtight: pose as a glamorous Russian couple, collect incriminating evidence, and dip at the end of the week. Except Barnes wasn’t holding up his end of the deal. Instead of charming your way through the crowd, you were covering for his stiff, awkward pauses and the fact that he looked less like a besotted husband and more like a man being forced at gunpoint to stand beside you.

By some miracle, you managed to drag him away to one of the empty floors, a tucked-away space littered with stacks of unused tables and chairs. He was wound tight—shoulders squared, jaw clenched, eyes flicking across the dimly lit room like he was expecting death itself to emerge from the shadows. You didn’t bother with subtlety. Tearing the small recording device from between your tits, you fumbled with the button until the tiny red light blinked off. Whoever ended up reviewing the footage later wouldn’t need to hear the verbal onslaught you were about to unleash. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” you hissed, keeping your voice low, though the sheer force of your frustration was enough to strip paint off the walls.

Barnes clenched his jaw, nostrils flaring as he refused to meet your eye. It reminded you of a scolded dog, all pouty and pathetic. You might’ve found it cute under different circumstances. “You’re making this incredibly fucking difficult.”

“I don’t understand why it’s such a big deal—”

“Because it’s our cover, Barnes.” you snapped, incredulous. “We’re supposed to be married, not some fucking timid virgin couple. PDA makes people uncomfortable; they look away, and we have less eye on us to, I don’t know—do our fucking job?”

Barnes looked down at his clenched fists, swallowing hard. You rolled your eyes, shaking your head in disbelief. The dangling diamond earrings you had hanging from each lobe tinkled slightly, and you ran a hand through your perfectly styled hair, resisting the urge to throttle him.

“You’re unbelievable. Fury should’ve just sent me alone—” you muttered, but the words barely left your lips before your eyes caught movement.

A group. Heading straight for you. Purposeful.

“Fuck.”

With haste, you tucked the small recording device back into your cleavage. Barnes noticed immediately, clocking your distress. His brows knit together, hand twitched toward the hidden knife tucked into his suit jacket.

“No.” You scolded. Catching his wrist, you guided it elsewhere—your hips. He stiffened instantly, making a noise of protest, but you kept him locked in place, pressing in until your chests brushed. Too close. Not close enough.

“Play along,” you murmured. “Kiss me. Now.”

“Wha—” His breath hitched, barely enough time to form a response before you rose onto your toes and sealed your mouth over his.

Barnes froze. Stiff beneath your touch, lips rigid like you’d just planted one on a slab of granite. He still tasted like toothpaste—spearmint—and the faint trace of his aftershave clung to his skin. If you’d been trying to salvage some believability, some small thread of natural chemistry, it was impossible now. It was like kissing a statue.

An aftershave-scented stone statue.

The passing group chuckled, one of them murmuring, amused, “Ah, young love.”

Maybe it was the murmured chuckles of the passing guests, or maybe Barnes had finally remembered how to act, because his grip on your hips suddenly tightened, fingers digging into the fabric of your dress with unexpected force. The silk pulled taut against your skin, trapping heat between you, and then—

A sound.

Low. Strangled. A rasping, utterly pathetic groan against your lips.

You barely had time to register it before something else stole your attention. In the tight press of your bodies, you felt it—hard, insistent, pressing against your pelvis.

Oh.

The realisation sent a flicker of shock through you, but you schooled your expression, keeping your face composed as you lingered just a second longer—just enough to ensure your audience was convinced. Then, finally, you pulled back.

Barnes didn’t move.

For a moment, he just stared, pupils wide and unfocused, a blissed-out haze dulling the sharp blue of his eyes. But then, like a lightning strike, awareness snapped back into him. Horror overtook his dazed expression, his breath hitching as he seemed to realise—

Did he just—?

You both looked down at the same time.

And there it was.

The medium grey of his suit pants betrayed him entirely, darkening at the crotch with an unmistakable wet patch.

You gaped, lips parting in stunned silence. No fucking way.

Barnes didn’t wait for a reaction. With the sheer force of a man fleeing for his life, he ripped himself from your grasp and marched away, stiff-backed and utterly silent, leaving you standing there, speechless.

—

It had been twenty minutes, and Barnes still hadn’t left the goddamn bathroom.

It had taken you all of thirty seconds to track him down, but the moment you found the door, it was locked. Of course it was. You twisted the handle, rattling it in frustration, then resorted to pounding your fist against the heavy wood—subtly, of course, but with enough force that he knew you weren’t going anywhere.

“Barnes.” You hissed his name through gritted teeth, pressing closer to the door. Nothing. Not a shuffle. Not a breath. Absolute fucking silence.

You exhaled sharply, trying to keep your expression neutral as a pair of guests passed by, casting you a curious glance. Yeah, you knew exactly how this looked—lipstick smudged, breath uneven, standing outside a locked men’s bathroom like a woman scorned. You must’ve looked thoroughly debauched.

Your pulse hammered in your throat. This was insane. A simple, fake kiss had made him short-circuit so hard that he fucking came in his pants? Twenty minutes ago, he looked repulsed by the mere idea of touching you, and now he was hiding away like some panicked virgin?

You let out a long, slow groan, dropping your forehead against the door.

“Barnes,” you muttered, knocking again—your patience wearing thinner by the second. “Open the damn door.”

Silence.

You straightened, glaring at the wood as if you could will it into splintering apart.

“Barnes, I have been patient.” You gritted your teeth, knocking harder. “If you don’t open this door in the next five seconds, I will break in.”

Silence.

Motherfucker.

"Alright, I’m coming in," you announced, your voice low but firm.

You cast a quick glance over your shoulder, ensuring no one was watching, before slipping a bobby pin from your hair. Years of practice made the process effortless; your fingers worked quickly, blindly, jamming the pin into the lock and feeling for the mechanism. A few precise twists, a satisfying click, and—

"Make sure you're decent, Barnes—"

The words were halfway out of your mouth when you pushed the door open, but whatever half-hearted joke you'd meant to make withered before it even reached your tongue.

Barnes was not decent.

Not in the way you’d expected.

He sat hunched on the closed toilet lid, head in his hands, his entire body drawn in tight like he was trying to fold in on himself. His knee bounced erratically, the rapid motion almost violent in its rhythm. He had ripped off his suit pants, leaving himself in nothing but his boxers, his bare thighs tense, twitching. His fingers dug into his hair, gripping at the strands like he wanted to rip them out, and when his bloodshot eyes flicked up to you—

You felt your stomach drop.

Panic. Raw, unfiltered, choking panic.

Tears welled along his lash line, his chest rising and falling in uneven, barely contained pants. He looked like a man caught in a cage, seconds from tearing himself apart just to escape it.

You swallowed, your throat suddenly dry, and stepped in, shutting the door softly behind you before flipping the lock.

"Hey, Barnes…” Your voice was hesitant, softer than before.

He shook his head, eyes fixed firmly on the floor, his hands trembling as he dragged them down his face.

“I don’t—” His voice cracked, breaking on the words. "I don’t want you in—"

You moved before he could finish, lowering yourself to the cool bathroom tiles in front of him, as if making yourself smaller would make you any less intimidating.

"Hey," you murmured, tone careful but steady. "Look at me."

“No.” It came out sharp, like a whip, a defence mechanism honed over decades. His entire body went rigid, his breathing ragged.

“Barnes, you need to breathe.”

Your voice was steady, firm without being harsh, each syllable carefully measured as you crept forward on the cold tile floor. The dress, the dirt—none of it mattered. It wasn’t your dress, anyway. Tony Stark could foot the bill for a replacement if this one got ruined, all this fancy wear was on his dime.

“In through the nose,” you instructed, voice softer now. “Out through the mouth.”

By some miracle, Barnes listened.

He sucked in a ragged breath, chest expanding beneath his half-unbuttoned dress shirt, and then exhaled through parted lips. It was shaky, uneven, but it was something. You watched in silence, waiting. His limbs still trembled, his fingers clenching and unclenching against his thighs, but the worst of the violent, full-body tremors had eased.

“There you go,” you murmured, voice barely above a breath. “Keep breathing, just like that. You’re doing so well.”

Slowly, you inched forward, shifting across the tiles until you sat in front of his knees. His skin was warm, radiating heat even through the thin fabric of his boxers.

“Barnes,” you hesitated, watching his face carefully. “Can I touch you?”

His whole body tensed.

“What?” His eyes darted up, sharp and startled, as if the very question had knocked the breath from his lungs.

“Is it okay,” you rephrased, slower this time, gentler, “if I touch you?”

Barnes hesitated. His gaze flickered away, jaw clenching like he was at war with himself. But then, after a long, tense beat, he gave a small, stiff nod.

You inhaled, steadying yourself. Then, with slow, deliberate care, you reached out and cradled his face between your hands.

The moment your fingers touched his skin, he flinched.

Not violently. Not like he was afraid of you. But enough that you felt it—felt the way his muscles coiled beneath your fingertips, the way his throat bobbed in a hard swallow. The cool metal of your fake wedding ring grazed his cheek, and his breath hitched, like he had just been burned.

“Keep breathing,” you reminded him, voice low and steady. “Nice and slow.”

Barnes obeyed, dragging in another breath, and you felt some of the tension leave his shoulders. The hard lines of his face softened just slightly as he leaned into your touch, nuzzling—actually nuzzling—against your palms.

“There you go,” you murmured, your thumb stroking in slow circles over his cheek. “Look at me.”

His eyelids flickered, resisting for a moment, but then those storm-blue eyes finally met yours. He looked exhausted. Frayed at the edges. But grounded, at least. Present.

“Tell me one thing you can smell right now.”

Barnes blinked. A hint of confusion crossed his face. “Smell?”

“Yes, smell.” You nodded, keeping your voice soft, coaxing. “Just one thing. Keep breathing and tell me.”

He hesitated but then took a deliberate inhale through his nose, his bouncing knee slowing. “I guess… whatever shitty fucking chemicals they use to clean this place.”

A quiet laugh left you, your thumb tracing a swirling pattern along his cheekbone. “Good. You’re doing good, Barnes. Now, tell me two things you can feel.”

His breathing had steadied, his inhales and exhales falling into rhythm with yours. For the first time since you’d walked in, he wasn’t shaking as badly.

“This suit jacket,” he muttered after a pause. His metal fingers twitched against the fabric at his arm. “It’s too fuckin’ tight. They always are with my arm—”

His breath stuttered, his body tensing again. Immediately, you leaned in, close enough for him to feel your warmth. “Just breathe, remember? You’re doing so well. One more thing you can feel.”

Barnes swallowed thickly. His gaze flickered down, just briefly, before settling back on your face. 

“You,” he admitted, voice quieter now. “I can feel you. Touching my face.”

“Good.” You nodded, thumb gliding over his cheek again. “Are you okay with that?”

“Yes.” He exhaled, and for the first time, it wasn’t shaky. “It feels… it feels nice.”

Something in your chest clenched at the confession, but you pushed it aside. You smiled at him, soft and small, and kept going. “Now, three things you can see.”

Barnes’ eyes scanned over your face, searching.

“You,” he said, still quiet, still certain. His gaze lingered on your mouth. “Your lipstick is smudged.”

"Two more," you breathed, keeping your voice calm and steady, resisting the urge to comment on why your lipstick was smudged in the first place. No need to remind him of that right now.

Barnes' gaze flickered across the small, dimly lit restroom. His body had almost fully relaxed now, his mind preoccupied with the task you'd given him.

"Uh…" He scanned the space, brows furrowing in concentration. "The awful wallpaper… and the sink, I guess?"

You nodded approvingly, finally withdrawing your hands as you eased back onto your knees. The cold tiles bit through the fabric of your dress, but you barely noticed.

"Well done," you murmured. "Now, how about we keep breathing and get you sorted, huh?"

At that, Barnes stiffened slightly. The panic that had been receding just moments ago flickered in his eyes again, his hands twitching where they rested on his thighs.

You reached out, grounding him with a gentle touch to his knee. Your voice softened even further. "I’m going to turn around and face the door. I need you to clean yourself up—use the sink, use the soap."

His throat bobbed. "But my—my boxers, they’ll get all wet—"

"There’s a dryer on the wall, see it?" You tilted your head toward the small, dingy dryer meant for hands. "Use it to dry them. Then get dressed, and we’ll head back to the hotel early, okay? Order some shitty takeaway, watch bad TV. Just forget about all this for tonight. How does that sound?"

Barnes blinked as if thrown by the simplicity of the offer. His mouth parted, closed, then opened again, his voice small. "Yeah. Okay."

"Good." You flashed him a reassuring smile before pressing your palms against the sink, pushing yourself to your feet with a small wobble in your heels. "I’ll be right here. Just let me know if you need anything. Keep breathing, alright? Everything’s okay."

Turning, you crossed your arms over your chest and faced the door, giving him the privacy he needed. You tried not to listen too closely. Tried not to glance at the mirror reflecting the scene behind you.

The rustle of clothing filled the quiet, then the tap sputtered to life. You leant your forehead against the cool wood of the door, closing your eyes as you focused on the steady stream of water, the faint squeak of the soap pump, and then the soft sloshing and scrubbing of fabric.

The sound of fabric wringing out echoed softly against the tiled walls, followed by the steady hum of the hand dryer sputtering to life. You kept your forehead against the door, listening as Barnes manoeuvred through the motions, drying his boxers first, then his suit pants. The wet fabric slapped lightly against the metal dryer as he held it up, shifting awkwardly as he worked.

You didn’t rush him. Didn’t make a sound. Just stayed where you were, giving him time.

Eventually, the rustling stopped. A sharp inhale, then the familiar slide of fabric as he pulled his clothes back on. The quiet click of a belt buckle being fastened. The creak of leather shoes shifting against tile.

Then—

Barnes cleared his throat.

You turned.

He stood stiffly, suit now back in place, though the fabric still carried faint traces of dampness. His jacket was slightly askew, his tie loosened just enough to be noticeable. You took a slow step toward him, scanning him up and down with a careful eye. He didn’t flinch, didn’t move—just stood there, watching you warily, as if expecting a comment.

You didn’t give him one.

Instead, you reached up, grasping the edges of his tie. He stiffened but let you work, your fingers smoothing the silk fabric, tightening it properly against his collar. His pulse thrummed beneath your fingertips as you brushed against his throat, and though he remained still, you caught the way his breath hitched slightly at the contact.

“There,” you murmured, satisfied.

You turned towards the mirror, angling yourself slightly to the side. Your reflection was a mess—lipstick smudged, hair slightly dishevelled. You sighed, wetting your thumb with your tongue before dabbing at the edges of the stain, then reached into your clutch to pull out a small tube of lipstick.

Barnes hadn’t moved.

You could feel him behind you, his body heat pressing against your back in the cramped space. His gaze was heavy, following your movements as you leaned closer to the mirror, carefully reapplying the pigment to your lips. You didn’t look at him. You just smoothed the colour in place, pressed your lips together, then capped the tube and tucked it back into your bag.

Finally, you met his eyes in the mirror.

“Ready to go?” you asked.

There was a pause. A hesitation. His jaw clenched for half a second before he gave the smallest of nods. “…Yeah.”

You turned fully, flashing him a small, knowing smile before reaching for his arm. He didn’t resist when you looped yours through his, guiding him towards the door. With an easy tug, you led him forward, your heels clicking softly against the marble floors. His arm remained tense beneath your touch, but he didn’t pull away. Didn’t let go.

You glanced at him briefly, lips twitching into a small smirk. “C’mon, sergeant. Let’s get out of here.”

Barnes exhaled through his nose, shaking his head ever so slightly. But when you reached the bottom of the stairs, he followed without question, letting you steer him towards the exit, away from the crowded room—away from prying eyes.

—

A small, muffled whine stirred you from sleep. You blinked groggily, rolling onto your side as the cool sheets tangled around your legs. The plush hotel mattress dipped beneath you as you buried your face into the pillow, willing yourself back into slumber.

A low, panting groan cut through the silence, soft at first, then growing in volume. Your brows knit together, heart thrumming uneasily. Something about the sound was… strange. It wasn’t just a groan—it was strained, needy. Erotic.

Your eyes snapped open.

The room was cloaked in darkness, save for the dim red dot of the fire alarm and the faint reflection of the turned-off TV. You remained frozen for a few beats, your ears straining to catch the noise again. It came, louder this time—a choked whimper thick with desperation.

Was someone in the room? Adrenaline slammed into your veins as you rolled off the bed in one swift motion, bare feet hitting the floor without a sound. You had heard stories of creeps breaking into hotel rooms, preying on women while they slept. Had one made the mistake of picking yours?

Another sound. Low, breathy, utterly wrecked.

Your hand darted to the bedside table, fingers curling around the hilt of a knife, its leather grip smooth beneath your palm. Not even yours, Barnes’—

Barnes.

Your breath caught as your gaze snapped towards the couch, knife slipping from your grip and landing on the carpet with a soft thud.

There, bathed in shadows, was the writhing mass of the super soldier. His blankets lay discarded on the floor as though he’d tossed them off in his sleep. The two of you had agreed to take turns—one in the bed, the other on the couch—to keep up appearances. A stupid arrangement, courtesy of Fury and Stark’s meddling.

You flicked on the bedside lamp. The warm light spilt over the room, casting soft amber hues onto Barnes’ form. His face was twisted in torment, and his lips parted around quiet, breathless whimpers. Sweat clung to his skin, catching the glow of the lamp and highlighting the sharp lines of his body. His metal arm whirred faintly as he twitched, fingers flexing against the cushions.

Your stomach dropped when your eyes drifted lower. He was shirtless, his broad chest rising and falling erratically. The thin fabric of his boxers did little to hide the evidence of his dream—more than half-hard beneath the cotton. Was he really that big?

The realisation hit like a freight train.

He was having a sex dream.

Jesus.

You swallowed, throat suddenly dry. You should’ve looked away, should’ve given him privacy. But then his hand twitched, drifting downward—

“Barnes.” Your voice was sharp, cutting through the haze like a blade.

He jolted awake, body seizing as his eyes snapped open. For a moment, he was utterly lost, chest heaving, pupils blown wide with confusion. Then his gaze landed on you—standing there in your thin nightgown, face unreadable.

His eyes flickered downward.

Bucky sucked in a sharp breath, panic flickering across his face as he yanked a pillow over his lap, shifting awkwardly as if that would somehow erase what had just happened. A string of curses left his lips, voice still wrecked with sleep.

You tilted your head, studying him. His expression wavered, part shame, part something else, something raw and vulnerable. You exhaled slowly, pressing your fingers into your temples. There was a pattern here. A man whose body wasn’t his own, whose skin felt foreign, whose touch-starved existence had left him unravelling at the seams.

What in God's name was Fury thinking sending him on a mission like this—or did Fury not know? How could he not? That one-eyed bastard had a habit of knowing everything. Hell, he probably knew the colour of your underwear before you even picked it out for the day, the all-seeing prick.

“H.Y.D.R.A really did a number on you, didn’t they?” you muttered.

Bucky flinched. The words struck deep, sinking into something fragile beneath the surface. He didn’t say a word, just recoiled, fingers gripping the pillow so tightly his knuckles turned white. A moment later, he was scrambling off the couch, making a beeline for the bathroom.

“Barnes, we’re not doing this again. Let’s just talk—”

The door slammed.

Then, the soft click of the lock.

You exhaled through your nose, arms crossing over your chest as you stared at the wooden barrier now separating you. Asshole. You knew you should’ve been more sympathetic. Should’ve handled it differently. But after a long, exhausting day, dealing with Bucky Barnes’ second puberty was not on your list of priorities.

You stepped closer, pressing a palm against the door; your voice quieter now. “I know how you’re feeling.”

Silence.

You could picture him inside, hunched over on the edge of the bathtub, fists clenched, chest rising and falling in sharp, uneven breaths. “I understand what it’s like to be in a body that doesn’t feel like your own.”

A pause. No response.

“It must be hard,” you continued softly. “Not knowing who you are. Not recognising yourself anymore. And then... feeling things you don’t understand.”

Another pause. This one stretched longer.

“You shouldn’t be ashamed of trying to navigate that.” The silence that followed was heavier than before. You didn’t push, didn’t say anything else. Just rested your forehead against the doorframe, waiting. 

You had spent the better part of your life under the Red Room’s control, under Dreykov’s control. Every breath you took, every move you made, had been dictated by someone else. Orders given. Orders followed. It was all you had ever known. And then, one day, it was gone. Just like that.

You remembered the moment with eerie clarity: standing in the open air, staring out at the horizon, the sunset bleeding colour into a sky that suddenly felt too vast. The question had gnawed at you, quiet but insistent. What comes next? Who comes next? Because you didn’t know. You didn’t know who you were beyond a weapon, beyond a machine engineered for death and seduction. Two decades of programming, of conditioning, of being nothing more than an asset to be wielded and discarded at will. And then, without warning, you were handed something you were told was freedom.

But what did freedom mean when you didn’t exist?

There were no real records of your birth, no true identity to reclaim. The Red Room had scrubbed that away long ago, erasing every trace of the girl you had once been. No family. No home. No belongings that weren’t issued to you by those who had owned you. And yet, you were expected to smile—to accept this newfound autonomy without question, to embrace the illusion of a life you had no blueprint for.

But how could you, when you weren’t sure if the body you inhabited was even your own?

So even if Barnes thought you were bluffing and just trying to relate for the sake of kindness, he was wrong. Because you understood.

Terrifyingly well.

The difference was that you had refused to let it consume you. You had forced those feelings into the farthest corners of your mind, locking them away where they couldn’t touch you. Because if you let yourself linger on them for too long.

“Go back to sleep.” Bucky’s voice finally broke the silence, muffled through the bathroom door.

You sucked on your teeth, exhaling sharply through your nose. “Yeah, not happening.”

“I know the others give you crap about not dating, but you don’t have to let them pressure you,” you continued, keeping your tone light. “You don’t have to force yourself into a role that makes you uncomfortable. It takes time.”

“Back in the day..." His voice was quieter this time, tinged with something that almost sounded like regret. “I used to be a real flirt.”

A humourless smirk ghosted across your lips. You could picture it, all smooth charm and effortless confidence. The kind of man who could wink at a girl across a dance floor and have her swooning in seconds. But that wasn’t the man behind this door. That man had been stripped away, piece by piece. 

“I just don’t know anymore,” he admitted, voice raw. Your chest tightened. You could almost hear him weighing his words, picking them apart, and deciding how much of himself he was willing to give away.

“When I was the Winter Soldier... they made me do things.”

A slow, twisting knot formed in your stomach.

“It’s all… fractured in my mind,” he murmured, barely above a whisper. “Scattered. Broken.”

You closed your eyes and inhaled deeply.

“I’m sorry,” you said, and you meant it. “I understand that. More than anyone. The Red Room… they didn’t just use us for assassinations and espionage.”

There. You had said it. Pulled a piece of yourself from the grave and placed it between you.

For the first time, the door cracked open.

Bucky stood there, dishevelled and breathless, still only in his boxers. A faint sheen of sweat clung to his skin, catching the dim hotel light, while his metal arm twitched slightly at his side. His hair was a mess—damp and curling at the ends, sticking to his forehead. His chest rose and fell unevenly, as if he hadn’t quite caught his breath, muscles taut beneath the weight of exhaustion.

“Why are you being kind to me?” he asked suddenly. His voice was rough, tinged with suspicion, as if he couldn’t quite believe it.

You tilted your head, studying him.

“Because you’re hurting,” you said simply. “And obviously, you haven’t fully processed any of this.”

His throat bobbed as he swallowed. Without another word, he turned and stalked past you, out of the cramped bathroom and into the main space of the hotel room. You followed at a slower pace, arms crossed as you watched him sink onto the couch, scrubbing a hand down his face. He was hunched forward, elbows resting on his knees, his metal fingers tapping restless patterns against his flesh palm. His body had settled now, no longer betraying him with signs of arousal. That part of the moment had passed, but the turmoil in his head remained.

With a quiet sigh, you slid down to the floor, settling against the base of the bed across from him. Your legs stretched out in front of you, arms loose at your sides as you let the silence settle between you. 

“Have you spoken to Steve about this?” you asked after a moment, voice soft but firm. “Sam?”

Bucky scoffed, shaking his head. “God, no.”

“Why?”

“I dunno,” he muttered, fingers threading through his damp hair. “It’s just... awkward. I feel like a fuckin’ schoolboy.”

You tilted your head, watching him carefully. “I could teach you.”

His eyes snapped to you, wary. “What?”

“I could teach you,” you repeated, voice steady. “How to make love. Fuck. How to gain control over your life again. You’re just sensitive; you need a bit of exposure therapy.”

Bucky’s expression darkened, jaw clenching. “Why the hell would you do that?”

You exhaled slowly, gaze drifting to the patterned carpet beneath you. “Do you know how many men I’ve fucked and not felt a thing?” you said quietly, barely above a whisper. 

“I wasn’t just an assassin or a spy. Not like Natasha or Yelena. I was a swallow, Barnes. A honeytrap.” His expression flickered, eyes scanning your face as if searching for something, some hint of insincerity.

You swallowed, pushing forward. “It’s why Fury sent me on this mission with you. This is all I’ve ever known.”

Bucky’s breath hitched slightly, his hands curling into fists against his thighs. “Fury knows what they did to you, and he still continues to—”

“I agreed to it,” you cut in, your tone clipped, controlled. “He just wanted our sham marriage to be believable. He wasn’t asking me to fuck you, just to perform. That’s what I do. Perform.”

Bucky huffed a bitter laugh, shaking his head. 

“Look, I don’t know you,” he muttered, voice low, rough. “I don’t want your baggage, or for you to fuck me out of pity or... I don’t know, self-sabotage.”

The words hit like a slap, sharper than you expected. You recoiled—actually flinched—before you could stop yourself. It wasn’t just what he said, it was the venom in it, the way he threw it at you like a blade meant to wound. And damn it, it did.

Bucky saw it, too. The way your shoulders stiffened, the flicker of something raw crossing your face before you forced it away. His breath hitched slightly, fingers twitching at his side, but he didn’t take it back. Didn’t soften the blow. Maybe he regretted it, maybe he didn’t, but either way, the damage was done.

Your expression hardened like cooling steel, every crack that had formed between you quickly sealing shut, any semblance of vulnerability buried beneath layers of carefully placed armour. It was instinct—second nature, really. You’d spent years perfecting the art of locking yourself away, of making sure no one could reach the parts of you that still bled. You’d built it, brick by fucking brick, until you were fully encased, isolated from anything that might harm you. 

Bucky wasn’t the first to speak to you like that. Wouldn’t be the last.

You swallowed down the sting, inhaled slow and deep through your nose, and then let it out in a steady breath. When you spoke again, your voice was quiet, devoid of emotion, a perfect imitation of indifference. “It was just an offer.”

Nothing more. Nothing less.

You held his gaze for a second longer, searching for something, anything, that might suggest he regretted it. But Bucky just stared back, face unreadable, jaw tight. Then, without another word, he turned away, stretching out on the couch with his back to you.

Fine. Message received.

—

The rest of the week had been nothing short of torturous. After the argument, the air between you and Bucky had turned to ice. The two of you barely spoke. Not outside of necessity, not outside of the roles you had to play. At the gala, he did what was required—he held you close, leant into your touch when needed, murmured sweet nothings in your ear to sell the lie. But you felt the restraint in him, the hesitance in the way he brushed a thumb over your knuckles, the barely-there tremors in his fingers when he smoothed a hand over your waist. It wasn’t as if he was walking on hot coals anymore, but there was still that same, underlying hesitation.

Back at the hotel, the silence stretched long and unbearable. Shower, eat, sleep—repeat. Conversations were reduced to one-word exchanges, curt and impersonal. At least by morning, this miserable charade would be over. You’d gathered the intel you needed at the gala, and in a few hours, you’d be free of this place. Free of this suffocating, awkward tension. Free from Bucky’s constant, looming presence. 

God, the man had a staring problem.

You had noticed it before, how he always seemed lost in thought, his gaze heavy with some unreachable burden. You had assumed it was just brooding, the kind of silent, empty-headed angst that men like him fell victim to. But now you realised—he wasn’t staring through you. He was staring at you.

You saw it when you dressed for the gala, slipping into silken dresses and heels, when you pinned your hair into elegant styles, when you traced the lines of your lips with lipstick, perfecting the illusion. You’d catch his reflection in the mirror, eyes fixed on you, dark and unreadable.

Once, he had been so caught up in his daze that he nearly left without putting on his suit jacket. You had to press it into his hands, dragging him out of whatever spell he was under. He had taken it stiffly, mumbling a quiet ‘thanks’ but the heat in his face was unmistakable.

And now, as you sat cross-legged on the bed in a loose nightgown, the fabric riding high on your thighs, the same damn stare was drilling into the side of your face.

The TV flickered before you, an incoherent blur of colours and sound. You weren’t even sure it was in English. It didn’t matter. You weren’t watching it anyway. You were too focused on not focusing on Bucky, who stared at the side of your face like he intended to burn a hole through the flesh.

You exhaled sharply through your nose, running your thumb over your knee. The sheets were soft, the mattress more forgiving than the couch you’d been forced to sleep on last night. At least tonight was your turn back on the bed, though ideally, you’d be back in your own apartment by now, wrapped in high-thread-count luxury courtesy of Tony Stark’s absurd wealth.

God, you missed Egyptian cotton.

Bucky was still staring at you. You couldn’t help it, annoyance, filthy and venomous came pouring out of your mouth before you could stop it. “What? Is there something on my face?”

Bucky startled, his whole body tensing as if you had physically struck him.

“Nothing—” he stammered.

You arched a brow, unimpressed.

“No. There’s obviously something you want to say.” You shifted on the bed, your frustration mounting. “Go on, spit it out.”

He hesitated, his jaw working like he was biting down on whatever words were lodged in his throat.

You didn’t let up. “You sure had a lot to say earlier in the week. What, do you want to dig the knife in further? You might as well just call me a whore while you’re at it—”

“I’m sorry.” Bucky cut over you, his head dipping. You paused, momentarily stunned. He was doing that thing again, where he looked like a scolded dog. Adorable, but not the fucking time.“I shouldn’t have said that, it was inconsiderate of me, especially after... after all you’ve done.”

You frowned. “You don’t owe me anything, Barnes.” The words left your lips quieter this time, but still firm. 

“I snapped at you. And I shouldn’t have.” he admitted. His voice was low, restrained.

You let out a slow breath, pressing your fingers to your temple.

“It’s okay. I understand,” you said, a little softer. “I haven’t exactly been… the kindest either.”

A bitter chuckle escaped him, his fingers twitching against his knee. Then, after a long pause, he asked, “How do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Act like everything is okay. Like it’s normal.” His voice was strained, like he wasn’t even sure if he believed in what he was asking.

You let out a short, almost nervous laugh. “I’m probably not the best person to ask about this—”

“But you get it, right?” He looked at you now, something almost desperate in his gaze. “To not know… who or what you are? Sometimes I… I just want to be normal again.”

You frown deeply, weighing his words carefully. You understood his sentiment, but you knew it was futile. There had never been anything normal about your life—not anything you could remember, at least. The Red Room had seen to that. Your earliest memories were of drills, of ballet, of suffocating discipline, and of the erasure of self. Even now, you weren’t normal; you were an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D for fucks sake, a woman barely pardoned of her crimes, existing in a liminal space. The world's governments couldn’t quite confirm you existed. You were a ghost, a fucking shadow of a person. 

“I don’t think people like us get to be normal,” you said finally, choosing your words carefully.

His expression twisted slightly, like he had already known that answer but had hoped for something different.

“But I think,” you continued, “it would serve you a world of good if you let people in. Steve… Sam. You don’t have to face this all alone—Natasha, Yelena, and I look to each other all the time to process it all and patch together the missing pieces. There’s no shame in it.”

Bucky’s face creased, his body drawing in on itself slightly. You moved before he could shrink further, slipping off the bed and kneeling before him. 

“It’s okay,” you reassured, voice steady. “Just tell me... what is it you need right now?”

His lips parted slightly, then pressed into a thin line. He fidgeted, his fingers clenching and unclenching as if struggling to force out something that had been sitting at the edge of his tongue all week.

Finally, he exhaled, jaw tight.

“I want to take you up on your offer.”

You tilted your head. “My offer?”

Bucky swallowed, eyes flickering to the floor before darting back to you. His voice was hesitant, low—like he was worried some invisible presence might have overheard. “Lessons. Lessons in… love-making. I want to be able to look at a girl without... you know. This fucking week has been torture seeing you—”

He cut himself off, warmth flooding to his cheeks. A laugh bubbled out of you before you could stop it—light, amused, genuine.

Bucky stiffened, eyes widening slightly, horror flashing across his face as if he thought you were mocking him.

You shook your head quickly, reaching out to place a hand on his knee.

“Of course,” you murmured, smiling. “Thought you’d never ask.”

—

“Is this okay?” you asked softly as you swung your leg over, settling onto Bucky’s lap. The mattress dipped beneath you both, the quiet creak of the hotel bed the only sound between you for a moment. He sat beneath you, legs slightly spread, his hands hovering uncertainly at his sides. You dug your knees into the bed on either side of his thighs, anchoring yourself against him.

His breath hitched, sharp and uneven. “Yes,” he murmured, though there was a noticeable tremor in his voice, like he was still convincing himself.

“Just breathe,” you encouraged, smoothing your hands over his broad shoulders. His muscles were tense beneath your fingertips, wound tight like coiled steel. He swallowed hard.

“What’s worrying you?” You asked gently. “Is there something I can do to make this more comfortable for you?”

Bucky shook his head, a shuddering breath leaving him as his hands finally found purchase on your hips. His grip was hesitant, as if he wasn’t sure he was allowed to hold you. “No,” he said, his voice rough. 

“This is great, I—” He cut himself off, pressing his lips together in frustration.

You tilted your head, studying him, before offering a reassuring smile. Your fingers kneaded into his shoulders in slow, soothing motions, attempting to melt away some of the tension knotted there. “Talk to me,” you coaxed.

His gaze flickered downward, shame creeping into his expression. “I just… don’t want to embarrass myself. Again.”

Your heart clenched at his vulnerability, but you refused to let him linger in self-doubt. Instead, you leant in, your lips curling in a playful smile. 

“You’re cute when you say things like that,” you teased, running your tongue over your lower lip before continuing. “Don’t worry about any of that. Just stay here, in this moment, with me.”

A muscle in his jaw twitched, but he obeyed, focusing on the warmth of your body pressed against his. Slowly, his grip tightened on your hips, fingers kneading into the flesh more firmly this time. His thumbs traced cautious circles against the fabric of your clothing, testing. You let your hands drift from his shoulders down to his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing.

“Now,” you murmured, keeping your tone soft but steady, “if you get overwhelmed, or if you need to stop, what do you say?”

“Stop,” Bucky answered without hesitation.

“Good,” you praised, smiling warmly. “And if you can’t speak? If the words won’t come?”

His fingers flexed on your hip before he squeezed in a deliberate rhythm—three distinct beats. You nodded in approval. “Perfect.”

His blue eyes flickered up to meet yours, searching. 

“What about you?” he asked, his voice quieter now, more earnest. “If you want to stop?”

You demonstrated by tapping three times against his chest, just over his heart.

“I’ll do the same thing,” you assured him. “Just like we discussed.”

For a moment, he just breathed. His lashes fluttered as he exhaled a slow, measured breath, his hands steadying against you. Then, with a small, almost imperceptible nod, he whispered, “I’m… I’m ready. I think.”

You smiled, fingers tracing a soft, reassuring path along his jaw. 

“Okay. I thought we’d start with kissing, since you seem worried about it. Nice and simple, no pressure,” you murmured, your voice low and reassuring as your fingertips ghosted along his jawline. Bucky swallowed thickly, his adam’s apple bobbing as he leaned into your palm without thinking, nuzzling it like a touch-starved thing. His blue eyes, dark as the ocean in a brewing storm, flickered with something hesitant, something fragile.

“I’m sure you kissed plenty of girls back in the day,” you teased, lips curling as you brushed your thumb over the sharp edge of his cheekbone.

“Oh yeah,” he exhaled, the words dipped in self-deprecation, “until Steve became… well, the Steve he is now. None of the girls spared me a second glance after that.”

You let out a soft laugh, breathy and genuine, and felt the way his body tensed beneath you at the sensation. It was funny how a man who could tear through steel and strike terror into the hearts of the world’s deadliest enemies could turn so shy at something as simple as your laughter.

“You know…” he hesitated, voice quieter now. “You were my first kiss since… well, everything.”

Your teasing grin faltered slightly. You tilted your head, gaze flicking between his eyes and his lips, close enough now that you could feel the steady heat radiating from his skin. 

“Well,” you murmured, the ghost of a smirk curling your lips as you shifted closer, “now I’ll be your second too.”

And then you kissed him.

It was slow at first, a testing press of your lips against his, feather-light and coaxing. Bucky inhaled sharply through his nose, his breath hitching as though he was bracing for impact. But when you didn’t pull away, when you lingered just a little longer, he melted into you—hesitant at first, but eager.

His hands, large and trembling slightly, hesitated at your waist before gripping your thighs as if he wasn’t sure whether to hold you or let you slip away. The warmth of his palms bled through the thin fabric of your nightgown, spreading across your skin like wildfire.

You deepened your kiss, tilting your head to slot your lips more firmly against his, and a quiet sound rumbled in his chest—halfway between a sigh and a groan. Encouraged, you shifted, rocking your hips, the new position pressing your bodies flush together.

Bucky tensed beneath you, fingers digging into your flesh instinctively as you settled against him. His own hips bucked in response, and you could already feel him growing hard against your inner thigh. He pulled back slightly, panting, his lips swollen.

“Am I doing… okay?” he asked, his voice rough.

You smiled, smoothing a hand through his dark hair, tugging him gently forward again. 

“More than okay,” you whispered against his lips before capturing them once more.

This time, he kissed you back without hesitation. His hands gripped your hips, anchoring himself to you as he parted his lips, following your lead. You swept your tongue into his mouth, slow and purposeful, teasing along his lower lip before deepening it. A groan rumbled in his chest, muffled against your mouth.

You rolled your hips, grinding against him with a slow, deliberate rhythm, savouring the way his breath hitched and stuttered beneath you. Even through the layers of clothing, you could feel him—hard, straining, likely aching for more. His fingers dug into your skin, a bruising grip that only added to the heat blooming in your core.

You pulled away from his lips, shifting your attention lower, trailing open-mouthed kisses along his jaw, down his neck. You could feel his pulse hammering beneath your lips, quick and erratic. He tipped his head back, surrendering himself to your touch, a quiet curse slipping from his mouth as you sucked at the sensitive skin below his ear.

“You’re doing so well,” you hummed against his skin, your voice warm and indulgent, laced with soft praise. His body trembled beneath you as he bucked his hips up to meet yours, desperate for more friction, more of you. You rewarded him with a soft, breathy moan, letting him know just how much you enjoyed this too.

“I—” He tried to form words, but they crumbled before they left his lips.

The tension in his body coiled tighter and tighter, like a bowstring pulled taut, ready to snap. His hands clutched at you, grounding himself in the sensation, like the overwhelming pleasure was building too fast for him to control. His breath came in short, needy gasps, his hips stuttering as he lost the rhythm.

“I’m gonna—” His voice broke, his head tilting forward as his entire body tensed beneath you. A strangled moan escaped him, deep and wrecked, as he came undone. His grip on your hips tightened, his thighs trembling slightly beneath yours as his climax overtook him. His body fell back against the sheets, a soft exhale leaving his lips as the last waves of pleasure wracked through him.

You perched above him, still straddling his hips. For a moment, he just lay there, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he struggled to catch his breath. His eyes were half-lidded, dazed, and his lips parted as if he had more to say but couldn’t quite form the words.

“I didn’t mean to finish so early—” he started, his voice hoarse, cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and lingering pleasure. Leaning over, you flipped your hair to one side as your face hovered over his. You silenced him with a lingering kiss, slow and reassuring. He groaned softly into your mouth, still sensitive but already melting into the warmth of your lips. When you pulled away, his shoulders had loosened, the rigid tension gone from his body.

“You did so well,” you murmured, brushing your fingers through his hair. “How do you feel?”

“Good.” 

You grinned, sliding off him and stretching languidly before settling back onto the bed. You exhaled, content. Bucky turned his head to look at you, still slightly frozen in place, as if unsure what to do next. His brows furrowed slightly. “What… what about you? Don’t you want to…?”

You snorted. “That doesn’t matter. This was about you, not me.”

He hesitated, clearly still unused to receiving something without feeling obligated to return it. “But I feel bad leaving you—”

“I’m fine, trust me.” You hummed, closing your eyes as you nestled into the warmth of his arm. “We have a long way to go before you need to be thinking about that.”

Bucky went quiet. You could feel his gaze lingering on you, unreadable.

For a moment, you weren’t sure if he would say anything at all. But then, after a beat of silence, you felt him shift beside you. A hesitant hand—warm and slightly calloused—ghosted over your arm before settling on your waist, drawing you in closer.

“…Thank you,” he murmured at last.

[frownyalfred]

Okay but about the pennywaynes in a/b/o, I'm still fascinated by the dynamic, and there's a scenario thats spinning around in my head and I need to tell you (Im the reader that sent you an ask about them yesterday)

I was thinking, not very long after a diamond sky Thomas has to leave for whatever reason for a couple of days, and Alfred just. Sinks into his beta instincts. He didn't even know they could get that strong, but he spends three days awake, guarding and marking the property, making sure his Pack Omega is resting and taking care of herself, and basically when Thomas gets home, he finds a stressed Martha because she can smell Alfred's anxiety and exhaustion, and a Pack Beta who has been working non-stop guarding the nest.

And here is where I can't decide what's better, Thomas manhandling a struggling sleep-deprived Alfred into the nest, or Thomas being soft, scenting his beta, telling him what a good job he's done, but that it's time to rest.

Idk, but I DO know that Thomas HAS to hold Alfed down by the neck and alpha command him to "stay DOWN."

And Alfred just going limp.

Thank you for coming to my Ted talk.

What if I just screamed!!! Aghhhh you are speaking my LANGUAGE I swear you're like in my head? Yes, this exactly -- all of it, somehow Thomas manages to both chide/order Alfred into the nest AND he's also soft and tells him he did a good job. Because holy fuck yeah, imagine taking on that responsibility and three days later your PACK ALPHA is leaving you alone in the nest with the pack omega and she's PREGNANT? Instincts would be going HAYWIRE. Poor Alfred, he wouldn't sleep literally for days. He'd be so wired. Like Martha would try to drug his tea or something out of desperation and it doesn't even slow him down because his body and instincts are like must wait for the alpha, must wait for the alpha --

Poor Martha and Thomas learn very quickly after that adventure that they can't just expect Alfred to take on all these instincts but also invalidate them. Like yes is it kinda silly not to sleep for three days? Absolutely. But to a freaked-out pack beta that is the ONLY option. You asked him to serve in this role! He is doing the Thing required of the Role!

[haveihitanerve]

Le Ingredients: Papa needs to calm- Papa needs- papa-oy..

Hope you enjoy this insanity as much as I did! Lets go!:

“Should we just start off with ingredients?” I love it soo so so much when they turn to each other and ask, because usually the person who introduces the idea of the long form just has final say because they’re the ones talking(and they know each other well enough at this point to know which titles would make a good story for them/the others to develop) but i still love seeing them actually ask its so cute

“Thats how you start a recipe lets do it!” Damn Sam, thats so smooth. I forget sometimes this is their job lol

“Damn hes good.” lol exactly!

“All i need from you to get us started is- is some forced applause okay?” LMAOO TOM

“Thats why I married you.” AJ: *blinks. Pause. Ok sam. ok.* LMAOOO he did not see that coming

“I love you so much.” Lunges for Sam and kisses him so well he has to take a moment to recover is crazzyyyy XD

“Papa gets stressed.” Grins because he knows- he fucking knowss what he’s doing

“Papa needs to calm down.” Now Sam is in on it, even coming up behind ooohhh this is not how quickly i expected this to go-no complaints tho

“Papa needa calm- papa-oy-” Oh AJ did not expect Sam to go along lmaooo its too much for him

“I gave the 4-5 to.. James.. And *searches mind palace for another name* Tiffany.” XD

“ITALY!!!” *goes for a high five, gives Sam .2 seconds to reciprocate and gives up* “OkaY!!...”

“I love you.” “i love you too.” SAM FUCKING WINKS FUCKING WHAT. oh my gods… im going insane wow ok…

(also the absolutely no reaction from AJ, just a slight smile is killing me he was completely prepared for Sam to wink and acted like it happens on the daily and oh my gods)

*gasps dramatically* is Aj calling a side chick rn? No Aj! Bad AJ! Please give us a happy relationship…

Sam answering the phone XD

“She is gone is she? Where?” “I think to the toilet.” AJ… “is that what she said?” Sam is flabbergasted as to how AJ already forgot XD

Oh no, ok so AJ is planning something, what no one knows, not even him, but hes not cheating on his wife so we’re all good

“You need to bet in the papers.” “Did you say bet in the papers?” “No i said get in the papers.” mhm… sure Sam. sure. Also, thanks for giving us an actual plot of what aj is attempting to do???

AJ hanging up and then resuming his excellent stage craft of making food while waiting for either someone to join him or to end the scene- his little smile is so cute because he cant do anything unless someone else joins him XD

Sam just fucking screeching and AJ’s little jolt of surprise

[continuous cries of pain and choking for a disturbingly long time]

Tom sitting right next to Sam just :D watching to see what AJ’ll do next without bothering to move to help either one at all XD

AJ slowly breaking, a small smile, little flinch when Sam screams renewed, and shoulders shaking, while Tom props his arm up, classic Tom pose with his fingers over his mouth as he watches, they're so cute

*he is still going btw*

“HOT HOT! HOT! HOOOOOOTTT!” oh so he has words now, nice

[renewed cries of pain and??? drowning???]

[that also go on for a very long time and then eventually, slooowwwwlllllyyyyy die down]

Tom breaking and looking at Sam like “you good? You about done now?” 🫠😭

AJ taking a breath because its finally done

Sam: AUGH!! AJ: *pulls out a shotgun and fucking shoots him*

Sam himself finally ending the scene wth XD

Tom standing up resignedly as AJ finally gets to laugh off stage about Sam being weird 

“Morning chief.” Tom did not want that to be his character, as we can tell by his little sigh and AJ’s/Sam’s laughter at him. “Good morning.” why does he sound russian/like a vampire

“Any weird crimes happen yesterday?” Tom does his classic “ehhhhh.” nod. Love love love

“I've been up all night, its-” “what exactly happened?” AJ and Sam having shit eating grins because they made everything happen and are now forcing Tom to come up with the actual concrete details of the plot because they’re little shits like that XD

“I've only had time to watch it three times, it kept going y'know?” Shade thrown Sam’s way, very nicely done, and still being very obscure because he doesn't wanna build the plot lmaooo

“You know… you know octopuses?” Tom w h a t. Sam’s confused chuckle before he covers it because Tom. w h a t. 

“My story is always straight.👹” turns demonic for a second. Sam:... ok weird thing to say…

“So they serve octopus, paeiella.” …what. “Sorry?” Even Sam is knocked off guard. 

“Its a spanish dish.” “yeah.” Sam got that part. “Paella?” He knows what its called. “Octo- Let me finish why are you interrupting?” yes, act offended, perfect

“Shut your tiny mouth down.” even weirder thing to say but i dig it, keep going

“And thats not very nice, you know Im very insecure about the size of my mouth.” lmaooo Sam making it personal

“Its a small mouth are we meant to pretend?” Tom is not gonna let anything go, got it. “Meant to pretend its a normal sized mouth?” 

“okay come on lets move on.” Sam attempting to move the plot along

“Its dainty.” Tom not letting that happen “we like it, but its dainty.” Aj just grinning from off stage because he doesn't have to worry about plot or saying words properly

“So theres this octopus, and its in the paeilia.” (autocorrect tried to spell it correctly, but no, this is how tom spells it so this is how we spell it)

Sam folding, Aj laughing, and Tom being confused and defensive, amazing

“Cant pronounce that word, can you?” XD poor tom…

“PAIEALLLA!!!” Yes Tom, saying it louder means you are correct

“Paella.” That, strangely enough, autocorrect didn't want to change… suspicious

“Nooooo….” tom XD help-

“Im saying it the italiano way.” “oh I see. Wrong.” DAMN SAM!!! DAMN XD

“Anyway, octopus paella-” “octopus paeylla.” Tom- Aj loosing it on the side and Sam having to lean away, folding again. LMAOOO as Tom just stands there, like “what?” XD

“You sound like every time you say it, like you're having a mini stroke.” Sam will not let this go- also i've seen clips of this scene before and wow it goes on much longer than i believed lmaooo

AJ trying to recover and loosing it again when Sam says “mini stroke’ bending over fully and smacking his leg, amazing

“I will.. Get someone else.” now thats a threat. I think he means just in general, replacing Sam with a new improv group XD

“The other can do this just as well.” Aj your position off stage and not in the scene is being threatened. 

“What- you've just drawn an octopus so far. How does that *breaks, finally and laughs* help? I don't need pictograms *AJ cackling as he folds again, Sam trying to recover but failing* its not fucking ancient egypt.” this is glorious how did Tom manage to turn the tides on sam when its not even fucking real what hes doing LMAOOO XD

“Octopus- *disgruntled and aggressive glare at sam* paella.” Sam: *cheeky shit smirks and hold up a finger*-better!

“I work so hard.” we see you tom, we know, keep up the good work. 

“Octopus paeialla” he was so close!

“An octopus dish.” they have taken all the wind from his sails lmaooo

“Yum this delicious.. dish.”  poor baby XD

“I got to the big deal and you're just cutting off me!!!!!!” tom, where are these english degrees thats not proper word positioning in a sentence tsk tsk lol

“Were going back to the start!” Angry tom. “Octopus paeilla.” hes given up on all of them XD

“By the paella or by the octopus?” sam knew what he was trying to say and is just making life hard at this point XD and we love him for it

“AHHHHHH!” tom is ready to strangle him XD

*long winded explanation that periodically is interrupted by Tom *wiggle arms* and Aj laughing* and the woman is dead.  Well that wrapped up nicely…

“Si.” “Si?” “... yes.” Sam is just fucking with him now XD “Si. Yes.” *Tom is going insane* “what?” his little arm flaps at Sam hes so confused and concerned XD 

Meanwhile AJ: *loosing it offstage*

“Why are you questioning me?” I love the way he suddenly inhaled helium and is eight octaves higher, adore

“I think, open and shut case.” “octopus breaks into restaurant, *Aj’s giggle* hides into a paella, *deep breath* and then strangles *Tom: paeilla* (tom baby no) a woman.” “Si. ANd fire.” yes, yes Sam, don't forget the fire. 

“Maybe the octopus did it, i don't fucking know.” Sam is just done lmaoo

“Dina, dina come in.” AJ’s nod at Sam that ‘yes, you are dina, my wife, come here’ and Tom being extra “ill leave.” 

“Really?” Sam is shocked lmaooo, so much so he forgets his accent XD

“Why are the italians so fucking mental.” lmaooo- Translation: why are you two idiots so fucking mental, cant we have a normal fucking skit for once

“Its- is terrible.” Brilliant acting Aj, 10/10, everyone believes that you think its terrible

“Babi-” did he forget the name or is this his italian pet name for his wife? 

AJ’s smile and his correction- “dina” reveals the first(or its his weird italian way of saying “babe” or smth but nobody got it so he had to clarify lol)

“You only call me Babi when you're lying.” 

“This is your restaurant.” “yes?” aj is unaware how this is relevant. “This is so far very much within your wheelhouse.” LMAOOO

Aj’s hand still on Sam’s shoulder🫠

“Where would I find an octopus-” “you're a chef! Its one of the ingredients-!” Sam is loosing it XD

“But where would I find an octopus that has the ability to strangle someone and set itself on fire. *starts grinning* its so stupid.” It is indeed, and we love it

“I know about your circus past.” DAMN! The way AJ’s smile dropped so fast is incredible holy shit

“Don't you ever-” Both Sam and AJ break with laughter because honestly, what is this storyline XD

“The english mafia.” AJ fighting a smile🫠😭

*pulls out his actual, genuine iphone* look at this, Starling Bank *grins* What number does it say, from last nights revenue. Say it out loud.” AJ forcing Sam to create this, beautiful XD

Sam actually doing something on AJ’s phone lol, so sweet

“Two-” “two million euros.” Said in unison while grinning at each other- ill be right back let me just go cry in the corner-

Tom: *stands, ready to join the scene* Sam: the octopus! Tom: *look of disappointment and annoyance the way only good friends can convey with a single look*

All three of them laughing at the joke together im gonna cry theyre so cute

Tom’s head tilt- sobbing🫠

“No stop it!” Aj has to step in to defend him XD

Sam still losing it at his own joke while Tom just stares at him, done

“Let him be the character he wanted to be!” AJ!!! help- XD

“Do you have something to mention on the octopus. *voice shaking with laughter* whoever you may be.” Tom: *just starts fucking honking????* XD LMAOO

“Me and my comically large feet.” Puts foot up on chair where AJ’s hand was a second ago, moves it away before he places it because he saw it coming. Almost loses his balance- Sams hand snaps up and stabilizes him as Aj grabs the chair and his foot😭*sobs in the corner in i want their friendship*

THE WAY SAMS PHONE TURNS OFF RIGHT AS TOM SNAPS IS INSANEE

“Is he a clown or magician?” Tom: *eyes light up in idea* both! *fwish* flowers? Tom stop being sweet to AJ’s wife, this isn't a cheating story.. Also- the true magic is that hes wearing short sleeves, so he pulled the flowers out of his wrists… 

“Its a bird!” thank you for sharing Tom XD

The way they're all standing in like a triangle just periodically smiling at each other when they’re not the ones actively participating in the scene is too cute

“They have magicians at the circus right?” Noooot… really, but now really isn't the time to ask, that would have been like… a few seconds ago lol

Sam and AJ laughing, Sam releasing air like a balloon while AJ just chuckles, staring at tom incredulously like “you're asking this now??” and Tom just smiles and goes “yeahh.” and i love that for all of them

“This marriage is over!” NOOOO “No!” Sam: :) Si. LMAOO

“Remember,” Aj dropping a few inches in height just so Tom seems even taller is crazy mental and i love him for it

“The big top always comes out.. On top.” AJ’s surprised burst of a laugh is everything to me, including his little victorian hand over the mouth

Tom backing up while making clown honk noises and AJ tries desperately not to laugh

“Its like seven in the afternoon.” Tom: *really?* seven in the afternoon? Thats why!

“Im sorry, I’ve been up all night with duolingo trying to learn spanish words,*sam’s slow growing joy as the sentence progresses, AJ’s laugh in the back* apparently my pronunciation is terrible.” LMAOO Tom never change XD

Tom ever so casually just shutting the door in Sam’s face as he starts to ramble is a power move and also crazy

“I thought we could do this bit off stage because its really just… *flaps arms tiredly* they already know.” Sam laughs and does, in fact, end the scene lol

“Dmitri!” Tom: *speaks Russian gibberish back* AJ: *pauses, did not expect that, has to smile* don't speak russian! Fuckin- *cant think of something not xenophobic to say*-do it now!

“I have a successful restaurant-” Tom comes fucking floating in like hes the Ghost of Somerset past or smth weird like that..

AJ: *bamboozled but keeps talking, glancing at Tom like ‘what do you want now’* they're all so tired and done with each other its absolutely amazing

Tom weirdly hugging Aj… its just cute even if its weird…anyway…

“My name is.. Uh…” AJ not sure if hes been given a name, if he has a name, if he can come up with a name, or if waiters even introduce themselves. They don't, especially not if hes just serving food and not there to just grab orders, but he’s realizing that slowly XD

“I wanted some of your… paillllaa.” Tom, just… keep trying bud, you're doing great. Sam’s laugh off stage is amazing too

“You are under arrest.” AJ’s smile of ‘wow okay already? We moved fast tom, but ok..” “on suspicion of octopus” Tom, never change XD

“And we will kill no more women in here.” Sam and AJ having a stare down while Tom does a fourth wall break, iconic as always

“Everybody hear that? So, if any of you were thinking of doing a murder, n- you cant!” and thats- thats final!!! So says Tom! lmaooo

“I've got one last ingredient for you” *does stagecraft of taking off a ring, but maybe thats not obvious enough* “my wedding ring.” Tom: *nope we cant have that* thats actually contraband… so.. 

All of them cracking at Tom’s last joke

Also the way Tom was still cradling AJ’s hands… 😭

AND SCENE

ANyway this was absolutely delightful, loved the delightful arguing, the... i dont wanna say eye-fucking because they weren't doing that, maybe eye-shitting-on-each-other?? anyways it was amazing as always, they're too fucking cute and I love

This is also one of the first skits I've seen where AJ is equally as done with Sam and Tom as they are with him, and its delightful lmaoo

@dawn-speckled thank you for the rec! @snek-of-eden

[dreamsy990]

heres my designs for all the important gods (I FORGOT HEPHAESTUS SORRY) in epic

thoughts/explanations behind the designs + sketches under the cut

general notes: my biggest headcanon for the gods designs is that they can be just about anything because they (within some limits) choose how they appear. so a god can look like just about anything, but its almost always mostly human. the only real rules to that i think are that 1) their design should usually try to incorporate their main symbols/domain in some way (in some way allows for a lot of range though, so athena for example is very much a bird creature since shes very associated with owls, but aphrodite has just some roses and shells in her hair, and 2) things like scars and such cant be hidden. this rule mostly only matters for athena. i realize i incorporated gold into almost all of their designs but that wasnt intentional lol. anyways let meee talk about the specific gods now. also for fun, no god has normal eyes. theyre either shadowed out entirely, weird shapes, or have no pupils. or all three! i think weird eyes is what distinguishes a god in my designs. i havent done this in my circe or calypso designs but since theyre not quite gods but adjacent i might give them similarly weird eye shapes but also pupils. idk we'll see!

aeolus: so my aeolus design is originally from a sketch i did in class. i was trying to draw telemachus with long hair based on a friends fic and then i was like "oh this looks like how i imagine aeolus would" and the next thing i drew is pretty much Just this final design. i drew aeolus very loosely, he has a clear shape but he should never be fully defined if that makes sense? so when coloring it i decided fuck it he looks like a weird mass of clouds now. its fun! i might change that but idk. also its subtly trans colors because i believe in transmasc aeolus supremacy. i imagine him moving around very freely and seeming to appear and disappear out of nowhere

apollo: so i think apollo is actually the oldest design here? which is to say that i drew apollo ONCE in my sketchbook at the start of my epic hyperfixation and got really into this specific design. i sort of wanted to color him similarly to uh, if you know ginjaninja their design for their oc kynthia? but i ended up going with more just white and gold to keep it simple. i LOVE tiny color palettes lol. the original outfit i believeee was inspired by gigi's hermes actually? but i havent looked at that design in a while so its probably changed. he has a halo that originally looked more like the sun but ive simplified it a bit. why? its cool. also i mightve stolen that from somebody else but i literally CANNOT remember. anyways one fact about this design is that the first time i drew it i labelled it WHORE. you can see i did that in the sketch here too. in his honor.

hermes: little freak guy!! theres honestly not THAT much to say here about hermes. i drew him with a little messenger bag once and i cant NOT draw him with it now i think its cute. i draw odysseus, ctimene, and telemachus all with a gaptooth, and i've never drawn anticlea but i've had the conscious thought that id give it to her too, so fuck it! hermes gets it. it comes from him. the family gaptooth is from him i hope youre happy hermes erfgfrefgfr. color scheme wise i wanted to keep it mostly simple again, i always pictured hermes with silver/white hair for some reason idk why but thats here! and he has rainbow. because is it even hermes without rainbow. i might darken this palette a bit but i am pretty happy with him.

athena: so my athena design ive drawn a ton and shes changed a lot over time. i didnt originally want her to look tooooo birdlike? and then i committed to owlthena because its just FUN man. anyways her silhouette is meant to look very closed off, her "cloak" covers most of her body, just generally shes supposed to seem sort of unapproachable. (note: hes not here but i do this with odysseus too! both because i wanted a similar kind of closed off look for him, and that i wanted him and athena to have visual parallels). her cloak is actually just her wings though! i doodled them unfolded so you can see her without them, as well as without her helmet. her helmet covers one of her eyes with a shadow (again to make her look like shes sort of hiding something), which was a design choice i made BEFORE we found out she lost an eye to zeus, so! coincidentally its good for hiding that scar :]. i doodled her with long black hair ONE WHOLE TIME and its stuck in my mind since so i have to keep that design element forever now. sorry official brunette athena youre not real to me. her color scheme was a STRUGGLE for me though. i knew i wanted to fit blue in there somewhere, but i wasnt really sure how? i eventually caved and made her mostly black and silver with a bit of blue in there. the blue and black gives more magpie energy to her than owl, but i dont know, i like it. i might mess with it more, but yeah! athena! shes really fun to draw lol. i imagine shed be animated in a very constrained sort of way most of the time like her design sort of implies. she doesnt really make big gestures or unnecessary movements she would be sort of uncanny in how still she is most of the time i think.

aries: ive had an aries design for a while so i was basically just finalizing it here. he was supposed to look both very similar to athena and very opposite of her. so they have nearly identical outfits, they both have a helmet shadowing their eyes (but it shadows both of aries' here), theyve both got a lot of animal features (although aries is less visible here, he's a bit dog inspired. you can see his tail eheh), etc. the main difference is that aries is meant to look a lot less, for lack of a better word restrained? his scarf (because its really more of a scarf than a cloak like athena has) only covers part of his face and absolutely none of his body, so it think it gives him a look more like hes ready to fight at any second than athena. i also wanted him to look very scarred/like his armor is scratched up. he and athena are both war gods, but aries is much more likely to throw himself into things and get hurt, while athena plans things in such a way where shes almost never actually hit. brute force vs strategy and whatnot. i sort of wish id made his scars golden too, to look a bit more like athena though. originally the black was red, but it looked really bad, which SUCKS because i wanted the red to contrast with athenas blue. but he just has red eyes here.

aphrodite: very little thought behind this one because my first sketch of her was like two days ago and very inspired by gigis. i sort of wanted her to look doll-like and have a cupids bow lip, but otherwise i got NOTHING girl. shes got pearls and shells in her hair to allude to her connection with the sea though. also roses because i wanted to put in one more symbol and that was a nice way to get a bit more red in there.

hera: im the least happy with this design, almost entirely because of the coloring. i sketched it being more purple, but then i realized that 1) peacocks are a lot more green and 2) IM STEALING FROM JUNE AGAIN!!! THATS HOW JUNE DREW THEIR OC IN A MIRACULOUS AU GODDAMNIT. so the colors are traditional peacock and im NOT happy with them at all. the design is also still basically stolen from june once again i am SO sorry their work is just so integrated into my mind that its a part of me now i do it without thinking. very little notes here otherwise unfortunately,,,,

zeus: weirdly enough i think this is my favorite design? which is WILD because i basically thought of it on the spot like two or three days ago for a shitpost based on a silly manwhore au-adjacent fic i read. the design over all is inspired by neal's? but honestly i think ive done my own thing with it a bit. i didnt really want to do clouds in his hair because id associated that with aeolus in my head, but then i thought of it fading into a dark grey like stormclouds, and having his scarf like lightning? and then he appeared fully formed in front of me. bro is BARELY dressed dude put a shirt on. also his eyebrows are cloud shaped like ursaluna. i fucking hate this dude but im happy with this design

poseidon: OKAY SO POSEIDON IS THE MOST OUT THERE DESIGN HERE I THINK. hes definitely the most inhuman looking one despite us having literally a bird right there, but that was somewhat intentional? and also somewhat because i had a very clear vision of him and needed to make it real exactly as i first thought sorry. anyways, for some characterization, i think with my idea of the gods choosing their appearances and poseidon being a lot more monstrous, you could say he CHOOSES to look unnerving. side note, this is very personal to me but i really like the idea of athena looking more like poseidon than any of her other family. i dont know WHY i just got really attached to that idea. so they have the same hair and somewhat similar faces i think. the resemblance isnt major but it is THERE for sure.

and thaaaats all the gods! i hope you like them :] im going to go review for a test i have tomorrow now

[qoldenskies]

Okay okay I'll yammer about Rise!Splinter in your ask box because oh my god I cannot STAND people who legitimately villainize him on main. Like, alright, you can call him an emotionally unavailable or even slightly neglectful parent all you want, because even the show itself makes it clear that his parenting style wasn't exactly PERFECT and probably left the boys with at least a SMALL myriad of issues (Raph's parentification and Donnie's constant need for approval come to mind, though I can't say for sure whether those are entirely borne of Splinter's parenting style lmao). But I feel like so many people through trying to villainize his actions deliberately gloss over the fact that he was probably struggling with hardcore PTSD after spending a decade or more basically being forced to fight in a DEATH ARENA, not to mention probably having a good deal of body dysmorphia because he's suddenly been kind of forcefully shoved into a body that he can't even recognize as his own anymore. PTSD is a genuinely crippling condition to struggle with at times. On top of the depression he more than likely had, it'll make you not even want to get out of bed some days, and to struggle with that AND take care of four INFANTS that you've basically suddenly found yourself the sole caretaker of HAD to require a great deal of both mental and physical strength from Splinter. I'm sure he had his hard days, and the show points that out, but he was still trying his damn hardest to be there and be present for these kids, even if he fucked it up at every turn, even if he was far from the BEST parental figure that they could have had.

People can critique his parenting style as they wish (hell, even I do it), but so many depictions of him as an awful parent feel like they're glossing over the legitimate mental issues that he more than likely has, and idk sometimes I just feel like yammering about it on main

yeah like, a parent can seriously fuck you up completely unintentionally and have understandable, sympathetic reasons for it (while still not being in the right! a kid is never in the wrong for being hurt by an adult who failed them! but they're also well within their right to understand and empathize with a complicated parent who loves and changes for them!). generally im sure a lot of people who write abusive parent splinter genuinely had horrendous and abusive parents and are venting, which is why i tend not to be judgemental to people who do. characters are ultimately devices to drive a plot and if they're writing a story where they want to put them through some shit, that's one way to do it. aus are aus and allat

HOWEVER. lord does it frustrate me when people act like his behavior in the show itself is actually like that. i think its really uncharitable and unsympathetic. like if you want to see some of the things he did to them as potentially unforgivable thats fine, because if they're upset with him they dont have to forgive him, but him dealing with crippling ptsd and depression while being someone who goes out of his way to parent and change and grow while handling it just makes it idk nasty to me ,,,,

and also maybe this is just a hot take but esp. when it comes to raph and donnie i think them having more complex feelings about him makes for more compelling angst. its juicier, and i love to read stories that are empathetic towards everyone involved.

i am not a splinter defender but i will still fight splinter haters (not actually. dont fight me i will cry, i dont main tag most things anymore for a reason lmao)

[redcamellia13]

Mitsukou Analysis: Red House Arc

Okay. God, I was not excited for this arc…

*motivational (platonic) KouNene*

Honestly, when I first read this scene I was quite surprised.

Isn’t it sort of odd Kou isn’t super affected by Mitsuba or even Hanako’s disappearance?

Yashiro became a veritable shell of herself, and Akane fell into depression, so to have Kou as his usual smiling self was quite shocking to see.

Woah, woah, can… can we back up a bit Kou? That’s twice now you’ve shown signs of contemplation of killing yourself for your ghost boy friend. (In my opinion, it should be ghost boyfriend, but ya know.)

Wow, so he’s actually considering this. I assumed Kou knew he probably couldn’t die back in the picture perfect world, since it’s supposed to be picture perfect, but he’s genuinely thinking about it.

So. At this point in time, Kou doesn’t know “whether the old Mitsuba is really gone.”

Well, Kou, for better or for worse that’s about to change. Which brings us to the next point of interest:

Right here. Kou has realized, for the first time in (Hanako or Tsukasa’s, I can’t remember) words, “the Mitsuba Sousuke that lived and died in this world is not here anymore.”

I think some subconscious part of Kou’s brain really believed Sousuke was still out there somewhere, and because he only met him very briefly as a human, and still quite shortly as a ghost, he never really processed the fact Sousuke had family that cared about him.

This is divulging into more theory territory than analysis, but why did Sousuke have a picture of the Red House?

His connections with it are nonexistent, and even No. 3 doesn’t know it exists, and is only associated with it because of his relationship with Amane Yugi/Hanako.

This is mostly just context for what’s about to happen next. Aidairo has made it crystal clear the house appeals to your desires.

Ah yes, so of course Mitsuba shows up immediately afterwards, almost as if Aidairo are implying when you say “think of your greatest desires,” Kou’s brain immediately thinks of Mitsuba.

Another interesting thing about these panels, and also the main reason I added it is that this is the first time we’ve seen Kou’s desire to be needed, and be needed specifically by Mitsuba.

“I can’t go on without you Minamoto-Kun. You’re all I have.”

This is saying Kou wants Mitsuba to rely on him and only him, a fact that was already well-established, but confirmation is always nice.

Perhaps this is pulling from Kou’s desires of Hanako being “a run of the mill evil spirit” so he would be easy to exorcise.

However, I believe this is more pulling from Kou’s… suicidal tendencies, and wanting to be with Mitsuba on the other shore.

It might actually be a combo of both.

Actually, this got me thinking for a while. Do Kou and Mitsuba trust each other? Kou certainly doesn’t think so, but do we have examples of them showing mutual trust?

Welp, guys, thats another ding on the “are they a healthy relationship” perspective.

“You know you wanted me to say that.”

My sleep deprived brain cannot even begin to pick out why the hell Mitsuba would say that, but let’s try.

I have a vague feeling it’s because Kou wants Mitsuba to know that he wishes for Mitsuba to know he needs him to need Kou… but why?

Like I said, I am on not a lot of sleep and a lot of caffeine, so I can’t really say. I might come back later with new ideas, but for now this is what you get. (Sorry!)

Kou wants closure from Mitsuba’s death, which is understandable. However, Kou, you might wanna organize your priorities, because a solution for Yashiro’s lifespan isn’t even present, while Mitsuba comes up twice?

*ahem ahem*

🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈

Wow. Real smooth Aidairo. Stopping Kou right before we get an answer as to why Mitsuba (both!) is there, while not being an actual desire.

Yes, I updated my oneshot book- all entries below <3

[vandme12]

RONIN WITH A PARTNER THATS MORE SADISTIC AT KILLING THAN HIM 🙏

Ronin thought he’d seen it all.

Thought he’d done it all.

The Devil’s Butcher, the monster under the bed, the nightmare in broad daylight—he lived and breathed carnage, reveling in every scream, every last breath, every desperate prayer that went unanswered.

And then you happened.

Now, he wasn't stupid. He knew you were something different the second he laid eyes on you. It was in the way you moved, how you smiled just a little too wide when things got messy, how your eyes gleamed in the glow of fresh blood.

You weren’t just capable of keeping up with him.

You left him in the dust.

And fuck, did that make his blood run hot.

The first time he saw you work, he had to take a second. Just to watch.

It wasn’t just the way you killed—efficient, brutal, artistic—it was how much you enjoyed it.

The way your blade sank into soft flesh like it was meant to be there, the way you lingered when someone begged, soaking in their fear like it was a drug. The way you smiled, lips painted red, fingers flexing as you decided whether to drag things out or end them.

You didn’t just kill.

You played.

And that was the moment Ronin knew.

He was in love.

“Y’know,” he says now, watching as you press a knee into some poor bastard’s chest, blade trailing a slow, lazy line down trembling skin. “I thought I was fucked up.”

You don’t look at him. You’re too busy drinking in the way your victim shakes beneath you. The way they can’t even scream anymore, throat raw from all the useless begging.

Ronin leans against the wall, arms crossed, head tilting as he studies you.

“Not that I’m complainin’,” he adds, grinning. “I like my lovers a little unhinged. But sweetheart… you might just be worse than me.”

You finally glance up at him, eyes sharp, calculating. Then, without breaking eye contact, you sink your knife slowly into soft flesh, just to hear the way it makes your victim wheeze.

Ronin lets out a low whistle.

“Jesus,” he murmurs, shaking his head, but there’s no disapproval—just pure admiration.

You flash him a bloody grin. “Don’t compare me to him.”

He barks out a laugh, pushing off the wall. “Yeah, yeah. You’re right. I doubt He’d be nearly as fun.”

The poor bastard under you gurgles, and you sigh. “They’re boring now.”

Ronin makes a thoughtful noise, eyeing the mess you’ve made. “Shame.”

Your knife stills. There’s something in your expression—something hungry.

Ronin recognizes it instantly.

His own reflection.

“You wanna find another?” you ask, voice light, teasing, but there’s intent behind it.

Ronin grins.

“Sweetheart,” he says, voice dripping with affection, “I thought you’d never ask.”

And just like that, you’re both on the hunt again, matching smiles carved into your faces like permanent scars.

Because what’s better than a monster?

Blood spatters across the pavement.

Warm, fresh, still dripping from the jagged wound you carved into the man’s chest. His ragged breaths are shallow now—too weak to fight back, too slow to register the agony of his final moments.

Ronin watches, eyes half-lidded, lips curled into a fascinated grin as he rests his chin in his palm. “Damn, sweetheart. You really went to town on this one, huh?”

You hum, tilting your head as you wipe the blade clean against your sleeve. “What, getting squeamish on me?”

“Squeamish?” He barks out a laugh, pushing off the wall where he’d been watching. “Nah, babe, I love it. Just, y’know—" He gestures to the sheer mess of the scene—blood pooling in unnatural patterns, the man’s face frozen in sheer, unrelenting terror. “Bit much, even for me.”

He crouches beside you, examining your handiwork like a critic admiring a particularly gruesome painting.

You glance at him. “Jealous?”

Ronin clicks his tongue, grinning. “Jealous? Pfft. Maybe. You make me look downright merciful, and that’s kinda rude, don’tcha think?”

You smirk. “Mercy’s for the weak.”

“Ooh.” He whistles low, eyes dark with something dangerous. “Cold. I like it.”

[p5-apotelesma]

YES!!!! it IS hauntingly accurate psychology for someone whos been through what he has. which makes them playing most violence towards him for laughs so stomach turning. godddddd and he still sees himself in some part as some angry asshole punk who fucked everything up.

and it was 100% about his team mates more than it ever was about him. of course he was pissed at kamoshida for the bullshit he was putting him through personally. anyone would be. but he was so much more pissed off on behalf of his team. who he saw getting abused every day. like. he was the star runner. he was CAPTAIN.

and kamoshida knew the kind of kid he was dealing with. each abuse dealt to ryujis team was another fork being stabbed into ryuji himself. kamoshida bringing up stuff from ryujis home life and spreading it around the school was just the fork that sent him over the edge. (and kamoshida got that information out of one of ryujis friends, who he hurt or blackmailed in order to do so.)

and we can clearly imagine how shujins well known oh-so-normal study body might have treated him when kamoshida started blabbing. hell, his ex-friends show us how. to his face. and in front of ren. comparing a child to his abuser. his mothers abuser. is fucked. (and lord knows how much ryuji might already worry about the ways he's like his father, in his temper) and ryuji could deal with the physical abuse. he could deal with the insults. all of which he'd learned to endure from his old man before. but. you talk about his family? you make the hell he and his momma had to endure the new school gossip? final straw. final fucking straw.

(im surprised he was even still attending shujin after the incident. i cant see his mom not wanting to pull him out. but i guess athletic scholarship money goes crazy though,,)

sometimes i think about how godawfully lonely he is before he meets ren. because he IS. and it hurts. it hurts a lot. (ryuji got attached to ren JUST as fucking quickly as ren got attached to him. honest to god) i think about how grueling his recovery must have been. nevermind physically. its hard enough emotionally. suddenly finding yourself physically disabled. but he was also abandoned and spat on by everyone who should have protected him and uplifted him.

except his mom. who felt like she had to apologize to him. and did. because shes feels guilt for not providing him with a full family. and god ryuji wanted to crumble into dust because making his mother worry that shes failing as a parent when shes wonderful for loving him and putting up with a rotten kid like him? he thinks thats his greatest sin of all.

thinking about how ryuji isnt really even like. always Conscious of how self destructive he can be at times?? nevermind how hes always like How can I protect everyone (often at the expense of himself) but like. when he told his former team mates to hit him if that would make them feel better?? likE HE JUST LET THEM BEAT HIM UP??????? CHILD?????

also atlus what The Fuck are you doing what is this writing why is ren just sTANDING AROUND. THE KID WHO GOT ARRESTED CAUSE HE STUCK HIS NOSE INTO A MATTER WHEN A STRANGER NEEDED HELP. WHY IS HE LETTING RYUJI TAKE ALL THESE LS. REN WOULD NEVER

ryuji: tells his angry ex-friends that they can hit him ren: NO?? NOT ALLOWED??

ren would sooner get in the way and risk getting expelled and ruining his future than let them hurt ryuji for something that was never his fault to begin with.

its like ryuji thinks. he can just be a human stress ball, if he makes someone he cares about angry. he isnt always good with words or apologizing so usually he just lets people kick the shit out of him if he thinks he had it coming. like. i have no doubt this kid had worthlessness beaten into him by his dad. emotionally and physically. (nevermind kamoshida) and i KNOW that a kid like ryuji would have tried to take the target off his mom if he could help it.

if hes going to get beat anyway, he might as well have some say over how and when it happens. trying to grasp at ANY control in his life. BUT JUST BECAUSE YOU THINK YOURE IN CONTROL CAUSE YOURE INVITING IT TO HAPPEN DOESNT MEAN THATS THE CASE...

but. god. due to everything hes been through. something in ryuji thinks he deserves more punishment than others for the same transgressions. hed take all the hits cause hey. hes…. good at taking hits.

dont talk to me im AUUUUHWHWAHGGG

[nr1sealuvr]

drv3 chapter 5 closing argument rant below because I am mentally unstable

btw this is not intended as a ship but if you wanna take it that way thats fine!! :3

So erm i think we all know that ch5 is PAINFULLLL man bc WTF :(( but there are a few panels in the closing argument that make me bawl (sobbing as i write this LMAO)

This one hurts the most because LOOK!!! 2 ppl that hate eachother HELPING each other at their lowest. AND THEY WERE BOTH DOOMED FROM THE START. AND THEY KNOW IT. Kaito with his illness and kokichi....well...FJKDKXJDNSSN

just like imagine the most stubborn little shit that you despise (except you dont, because Kaito is such a sweetie hes uncapable of doing so) telling you to kill them. that was the only time he was ever honest to him and really let Kaito see him. 2 FUCKING MINUTES BEFORE HE DIES. Imagine how much that HURT katio, being forced into killing someone in the killing game that you hate so much. He said it himself he KNEW it would fail and he knew he would get executed but FUUUCKCKXK HE STILL DID IT. That was like the last touch kokichi got holy shit being dragged across the floor BLEEDING wait hold on my vision is blurry okay im back AND GOD HE WAS IN SO MUCH PAIN and like. i can not imagine a life where I have to lie to myself that everything is gonna be fine. He had decided that he was READY to die.

WELL HE FUCKING WASNT BECAUESE LOOK AT HIM UZGGHHHSHSH he had to LIE to himself that he was to end the killing game. and he knew aswell there wasnt a high chance to do so BUT HE STILL DID IT JESUS DOES THIS NOT SHOW HOW MUCH HE CARES. He basically killed himself just because of a tiny tiny chance the killing game would end. Also Kaito going "you little..." while he had his little meltdown also made me sad call me delusional but IF YPU ZHINM ABOUT IT HES LIKE SYMPATHISING WITH HIM HES IN DISBELIEF BECAUSE HE FUCKING CARES AND HE KNEW WHAT WAS COMJNG AND THEY ARE FUCKING DOOMED AND I HATE THEM.

Heres him getting dragged because ouch. The silence was PAINFUL

Now this scene. Oh. My. God. Okay so first of that thing jn the bottom right corner. Kaito is looking at him and hes looking down. He just gave him permission to kill him and Kaito had no choice but to do it. Hes exposing himself to him and he cant even fucking look at him because they both know how bad the situation is. There was never any hope but they wanted to TRY. AND THEY TRIED AND THEY FUCKING FAILED Aaaanf my vision is blurry from tears again hold on okay anyway look at kaitos face. HE DOESNT WANT ZO. HE DOESNT WANT TO KILL KOKICHI. HE KNOWS KOKICHI DOESNT WANT IT. BUT THEY HAVE ZO. they fucking have to holy shit

This one also makes me sad because again imagine zhe SILENCE as your so called "worst enemy" takes out the wounds that he himself had made (ik one was from maki) and kokichi is NEVER quiet. He knew how serious and bad this was and they both stayed silent, not wanting to acknpledge it because they had hope. And it failed. Fuck.

Anyways i think its safe to say these little shits make me sick and IDJSJWN kaito being forced into killing has got to be the most painful thing ever oh and him pretending to be kokichi in the excisal. I know kokichi wrote a lot of the lines but still. Imagine having to act so cheerfull while pretending to be the one you killed. The GUILTTT GOOOSSSHHH

okay i gotta go now my dads picking me up in 2 min rant over:3