#i know people on here are too young to realize this
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hitlikehammers Ā· 2 days ago
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ignis obscura (dragon-sacrifice!Steve falls for random-man-in-the-woods(?)!Eddie before Steve goes to get eaten) (???)
feat. lots of love-at-first-sight, soul-deep devotion sorta shit
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When a dragon arrives within telling-distance, the town nearest the lair it claims must send the sacrifice; their most valued possession. Everyone knows this.
It was just that no one in Hawkins had ever imaginedā€”neverĀ reallyĀ believedā€”that of all the villages, a dragon would come toĀ them.
Steve had imagined it, though. As a boy, heā€™d thought it an adventure. As a teenager, heā€™d fancied it something of an escape.
Now, when it happens? As a young man, Steve Harrington mostly just thinksĀ of course it goes likeĀ this.
Because heā€™s the disappointing-but-only son of the mayor, in a town where mayoral wealth rivals the coffers of the crown, and if the dragon wants value? Steveā€™s the gateway to whatever riches have been hoarded, whatever small power may be marshaled to command more, to rule, to gather up virgins if Steve himself proved insufficient to that fabled taskā€”though he was renowned as the most comely of his people, having just dipped his toe into his prime while keeping the rosy flush to his cheeks alongside the strength in his arms: perfect timing, really. It helped pad the argument for him as the tribute.
As if maybe the dragon had waited, had watched. Had known what it wanted, and swooped in with intent.
Steve couldnā€™t give two ratsā€™ asses what the dragon did or didnā€™t do, as he made his way through the woods and up the mountain. The stories of sacrifice always paired with the same end: no matter how you pleased the dragon, the tribute did not live to descend to their home again.
So really, at this point, it was merely a question ofĀ howĀ Steve would meet his end. At the dragonā€™s mercy, of course, but: more likeĀ details.
Steve distracts himself with arguments for whether itā€™s wiser, or more efficient, to carve human flesh with claws or teeth, and itā€™s a job done so well that he not only finds himself wholly turned around on this trek, far too close to nightfall, and not nearly as near to the cave heā€™s aiming for as he need be, but more than that:
He fails to notice heā€™s no longer alone.
ā€œAre you lost?ā€
There is a honey-smooth quality to the voice that rings out butā€¦deeper. Darker even, though it doesnā€™t strike warning between Steveā€™s lungs. Itā€™sā€¦caramelized, and slow slip of thickā€¦almost comfort. Steve fights to keep a clear head: not all dangers are apparent. Enchantment and faerie mischief, even, could have found him in his mindless wandering.
ā€œLost?ā€ Steve tries to scoff at the right tone of haughty; ā€œIā€™ve lived here my entire lifeā€”ā€œ
ā€œIn these deserted woods?ā€ the voice, and now thereā€™s a figure that draws nearer, closer in the growing claim of the moon for light but still more silhouette than anything as itā€”he, the voice is male, Steve is near-certainā€”turns and assesses their immediate surroundings before tutting thrice:
ā€œStrange choice of domicile.ā€
And itā€™s mocking, of course it is: but the honey-caramel of the voice is a molten thing. It warms Steve deep and he cannot even be cross.
ā€œI,ā€ he starts, but sees not point to finishing before he sighs and admits, to himself as much as to the stranger:
ā€œYes, I am lost.ā€
ā€œBut youā€™ve lived here your whole life!ā€ the stranger slaps a palm to his own cheek, mouth dropped in faux-horror but he looks soā€¦earnest. And maybe adorable with it, so much so that Steve canā€™t help but chuckle a little helplessly for it all.
ā€œHush,ā€ he chides, half-heartedly at best. ā€œI was supposed to get to the caves by nightfall.ā€
ā€œOoo,ā€ the stranger leans in, as if to prepare for a secret; Steve didnā€™t realize he was so close; ā€œscintillating dinner date?ā€
Steve canā€™t help it but to snort.
ā€œBy a measure,ā€ Steve deadpans, before clearing his throat; ā€œI need to present myself to the dragon.ā€ When the strange man stares at him unblinking Steve deflates a little.
ā€œYou know, hot, fire,ā€ he gestures broadly; everyone knows what comes at the end of a sacrifice: ā€œdinnerā€¦ā€
ā€œWhy are you looking for a dragon?ā€ the other man asks, his lips pulling down a bit in just-shy-of-a-frown. Steve doesnā€™t like the look on him, so he tries to put on a bit of a show, match the strangerā€™s teasing energy from before as best he can in the given circumstances:
ā€œIĀ just so happen to be the village sacrifice,ā€ Steve announces, chest puffed a bit, but he fails to do anything but deepen the frown heā€™d been aiming to wipe clean from the other manā€™s face; now Steveā€™s frowning, too, as he deflates a little, but hardens a little too, crossing his arms and leaning back where the other manā€™s not even bothered to stop leaningĀ in, despite his apparently displeasure.
ā€œWhat?ā€ Steve challenges, but itā€™s brittle, he knows it. ā€œItā€™s a,ā€ he vacillates, unsure how exactly to describe theā€¦ritual of it. The way itā€™s cast as a, as aā€¦
ā€œIt is a high,ā€ Steveā€™s voice wavers a bit, like finally saying it aloud makes it all the less believable: ā€œhonor.ā€
The other man eyes him silently until Steve feels it in his very skin, before finally he speaks:
ā€œHmm,ā€ he tips his head, considering just a little before he seems less to come to a conclusion, and more to a conclusion on how to best voice the things he wanted to say already, at that:
ā€œWell, I know these woods very well, better than any hailing from the village I suspect youā€™re speaking of,ā€ his gaze flicks Steve top to toes, something warm in it, no, somethingĀ hotĀ in it, that simmers through Steveā€™s veins: ā€œand so I can get you to the caves, at the very least for shelter before moonrise-full,ā€ he glances skyward, seeming to doublecheck his words before he nods decisively and reaches out a hand:
ā€œThink you can trust someone you only just stumbled upon in the forest to steer you straight?ā€
And Steve doesnā€™t know for sure what heā€™d have done, what his answer and actions may have been if death-by-some-draconic-means werenā€™t imminent. But it is, and so he takes the hand offered, and grasps more than shakes, holds more than strikes accord and lets himself notice andĀ relishĀ how smooth and warm it feels against his skin:
ā€œLead the way.ā€
He doesnā€™t know what heā€™d do in lesser circumstances.
But for the grin on the manā€™s face, the way it shines brighter than moonlight, than sunrays even, he suspects: for the way it makes of the man a star on his own somehow?
Steve wants very much to believe heā€™d trust the man anyway, regardless of sense, just for the breadth of that smile.
~~~~~~~~~~
ā€œLooks like the dragonā€™s out for the night.ā€
Steve makes an extra survey of the den nestled a good bit into the cave when his mysterious guide comments on the undeniable silence of their surroundings, the telling echo of their footsteps in the empty space.
ā€œCurses,ā€ Steve huffs, both frustrated and dismayed because: ā€œIā€™ll have angered him, what if he doesnā€™t think Iā€™m enough forā€”ā€œ
ā€œOne,ā€ Steveā€™s beguiling guide ticks the point off with a finger raised on a strangely elegant hand; ā€œyou think dragons to be too irritable.ā€ Steve rolls his eyes to himselfā€”this Man who knowsĀ so muchĀ of the temperaments of dragons, theĀ egoĀ toĀ presumeā€”
ā€œThey can be quite pleasant so long as they have sufficient treasure. And theyā€™re long-lived, so theyā€™re patient,ā€ the man continues on, which: it seems his egoā€™s well-reasoned out at the very least, Steve supposes.
ā€œWhich brings us to point number two,ā€ and of course thereā€™s a number two, a pair of fingers now waving almost accusingly to the side of Steveā€™s face:
ā€œYouā€™reĀ more thanĀ enoughĀ to be worth waiting for.ā€
Steve blushes furiously and thanks the sparse cracks of nearly enchantedā€”quiteĀ possiblyĀ enchanted, actuallyā€”light for very little chance to be seen for it.
His companion grins with a glimmer of that sparse glow catching his eyes, glittering in it like enchantment themselves, and Steve thinks both that yes, heā€™s likely been seen and caught so that likewise yes, he needs to move out of the shaft of light that betrays him and with haste, because to think such a thing about this strange and beguiling manā€”beguiling, good godsā€”says far to much about what Steve feels about him, and far too soon, even by his standards.
Which are lightning quick already on a day in which he knows restraint.
ā€œSparse for a horde,ā€ Steve surprises himself for how steady his voice is, given how obvious his bid to change the subject lands, not matter his tone.
His companion is gracious enough to allow the shift without comment:
ā€œYou think mortal eyes can see such things without a dragonā€™s explicit permission?ā€
But not gracious enough to abandon thatĀ ego.
ā€œHow doĀ youĀ know so much of dragons?ā€ Steve finally just asks; subtletyā€™s never been his strongest characteristic, and in honesty, itā€™s past time to have asked it.
The other man smirks, scoffs a little.
ā€œThis may beĀ yourĀ villageā€™s first encounter with them,ā€ and itā€™s said not quite in censure, and not unkindly, but Steve is cowed a bit nonethelessā€”the man had never named but has more than once referenced where he thinks Steveā€™s from, and Steve suspects if his vestments and the crests embroidered to them werenā€™t enough, his lack of knowledge would beā€”his people have been blessed in many ways, and live privileged lives on the whole, most especially his family, in comparison to their neighbors.
ā€œBut here is the only perch for the span of tens of villages,ā€ the man points out; ā€œandĀ theyā€™veĀ not been left untouched for so long.ā€
Right. Of course.
ā€œYouā€™re from a neighboring town?ā€
ā€œOne word for it,ā€ the man shrugs, in such a way now that it shivers through his unruly curls; ā€œand youā€™re from Hawkins, I gather.ā€
Right. Unsubtle to the bone it seems, indeed.
ā€œFor the whole of my life I can say I know only one thing about your home,ā€ the man takes Steve grimace as the confirmation that it is; ā€œand itā€™s how they share notoriously littleĀ toĀ know.ā€
Steve chews at his lip, knows the failings his familyā€™s rule has had for the people without and without their borders. Has tried to find ways to help without power of his own in the order of things.
ā€œI always wished to see other lands, even the nearest of them,ā€ Steve finally lands on something to say; ā€œI tried to convince my parents, butā€”ā€
ā€œParents?ā€
It might be the first time his newā€¦friend? Looks properly halted.
ā€œSon and heir,ā€ Steve points to himself with a weary sort of smirk, the whole thing laughable, really; ā€œthe tribute has to be valuable, right? I thought upon seeing so little here, I could offer from our own troves before the end, as appeasement but,ā€ Steve sighs, suddenly drained, only now realizing, now that the option eludes him, just how heavily he was counting on the option of at leastĀ tryingĀ to bargain with the dragon, appealing to its intellect and far more, its love of treasure.
ā€œBut if itā€™s as you say, I may have much less by way of offering at all.ā€
Thereā€™s an instant sort of chill that fills him as he starts to acclimate to the reality that heā€™s going to die, and soon, and there truly is not hope for an escape. Heā€”
ā€œLet me assure you,ā€ the manā€™s hand startles Steve, battles and swiftly overcomes the chill in him as it wraps tight around Steveā€™s wrist, his voice following Steveā€™s own almost without break, a cutting finality to it, definitiveness in his tone and his eyes alike once Steve meets themā€”and once Steve meets them, the not-quite-stranger doesnā€™t let him look away.
Magnetic.
ā€œBased on what I have seen?ā€ and the words could be casual, but the low rumble theyā€™re spoken with is anything but:
ā€œYou could walk here wholly empty handed, and no dragon worth their flame would turn you away as unworthy.ā€
Steve feels less his cheeks, and more his whole body, inside and out, flush bright and thereā€™s no light to hide from, save from the one shimmering in the gaze locked into his own.
And Steve, for all his postures of pride: this time?
He has noĀ desireĀ to hide the way he flushes, never mind the way heĀ shivers, if it means trying to evade thoseĀ eyes.
~~~~~~~~~~
Incidentally, itā€™s too late for the other man to turn back, though he clearly knows these woods so well. Steve insists that he stays.
Not for any ulterior motives, of course.
The man argues, if almost for show alone, but agrees on one condition: they neither of them have bedding. The other man apparently hadnā€™t planned to be out past the hour for rest, is only stuck because of Steve and Steveā€”
Steve has a pack but heā€¦he presumed heā€™d either be dead and his offerings deemed fitting, or the dragon would keep him as the dragon desired, bedding or clothing or neither, until the dragon was satisfied.
And then, again: heā€™d be dead.
It is unthinkable to take the meager blankets Steve can see in a corner, not without permission; not from aĀ dragon, so. The other man is asking toā€¦lie close.
And Steve is not opposed. The man is almostā€¦surreally exquisite, especially in the passing moonlight. His angles areā€¦particular. Alluring. They steal the breath in Steveā€™s chest a little, long before theyā€™ve earned the right.
ā€œIt feels more than overdue now to ask your name,ā€ Steve whispers, not that itā€™s necessary. Not that thereā€™s anyone to hear.
ā€œEddie,ā€ the man whispers back, his voice so warm and almost enveloping, like an embrace in itself and Steve feels less absurd for speaking so soft, so privately.
NearlyĀ intimate.
GoodĀ gods, now SteveĀ isĀ being absurd and should feel it to his bones. He deserves to suffer the uncomfortable twist of embarrassment it leaves in stomach, at this rate.
ā€œSteve,ā€ he manages to say low enough that his mortification isnā€™t audible.
But then:
ā€œThat is aĀ beautifulĀ name, sweetheart,ā€ Eddie breathes, and heā€™s shimmied closer somehow while Steve was stuck in his shame-spiral for being the too quick to show his cards, even to himself in his own head.
ā€œNothing special to it,ā€ Steve mutters, demurs a little but in a coquettish way, doesnā€™t even mean to. Justā€¦thereā€™s an energy between them now, and Steveā€™s primed to match it.
ā€œIsnā€™t there?ā€ Eddie asks, heated and near in a way that dances up Steveā€™s spine:
ā€œI would hesitate to be so sure.ā€
Again, Steve doesnā€™tĀ meanĀ to, or plan to, when he rolls further into Eddieā€™s frame where theyā€™re laid together, already so close, now nearly in each otherā€™s arms.
He doesnā€™t mean to, and yet: his arms are gathered close against the chest of a man he doesnā€™t know, and yet feelsā€¦more comfortable next to than any body heā€™s pressed against in his life.
And there have been fair few.
ā€œYouā€™re so warm,ā€ Steve mouths more than anything, lips dragging on this half-strangerā€™s neck by accident, because it could be nothing save an accident that Steve now knows that Eddieā€™s skin tastes of salt and smoked cinnamon sticks and the air in the forrest at night: elemental, somehow. Necessary.
Only by accident would Steve torture himself this way.
ā€œIā€™d keep you warm always,ā€ Steve hears as the world blurs soft to black, the phantom sensation of arms curling around him, welcoming him to sleepā€”the whole of it odd in every way because he hadnā€™t spoken loud enough to be heard, really, even so close, and to read his words from the drag of his mouth to flesh was of course impossible.
ā€œTo the end of the Age and beyond if I could,ā€ the words drift blissful, wistful like an invitation into sleep: ā€œif youā€™d let me.ā€
So of course: it must have been a dream.
~~~~~~~~~~
Daybreak finds them entangled.
Steveā€¦freezes, as if he didnā€™t feel snug and perfectly warm wrapped up so close. He weighs the merits of bolting, and making apologies after the fact, against trying to extricate himself without rousing his companion, versusā€”
ā€œGood morning, sweetness.ā€
Steve stills somehow further, feels his face heatĀ yet againĀ and yet this time, despite the dark of the cave, heā€™sā€¦crushed ever so pleasantly against the bare smooth planes of a chest thatā€¦shouldnā€™t be bare, should it, because they moved together close forĀ heatĀ against theĀ chillĀ and for certain it is past dawn but it is still nowhere near warm enough forā€”
ā€œDid you sleep well?ā€
Steve groans, which only leads him to burrowing further into the unavoidably welcoming give of Eddieā€™s chest, lean butĀ strong, Steve can tell, much like he can feel as much as hear the rumbling laughter that cascades through that chest: so much like an invitation to sink into the chest and the sound alike, to never be singular, to never be cold.
What a ridiculous notion.
But then lips are unmistakably pressed to the crown of Steveā€™s head, not even in passing, no: they linger. Theyā€¦feelĀ right.
Steve wants for them to beĀ rightĀ until the day he diesā€”
Well. That might actually be possible, or close enough for what heā€™s earned in this world.
The irony.
Eddie takes to the huntā€”the reason he was in the woods to find Steve in the first place, apparently; he says his bow and knives are just down toward the ravine, which Steve vaguely knows but not well, too close to the borders of other lands.
ā€œDonā€™t fret, though,ā€ and this time the lips press to the low half of Steveā€™s cheek, affection that does not press its advantage but makes it desires clear, too close to Steve mouth to be anything less.
Steveā€¦is unsure what to make of that. Because he cannot make what he thinks of first; he cannot possibly follow that thread in his own mindā€”increasingly in his own chest.
ā€œIā€™ll find you, if you get lost again.ā€
As if Steve will wander, would risk missing his dragon captorā€™s return, to even consider one misstep to unintentionally enrage his looming executioner, to even consider missing a single instant in the meantime withĀ this manā€”
But the glinting smileĀ that manĀ shoots Steveā€™s way as he strides out the yawning opening in the rocks, its glinting like stardust and warm radiance that fills Steveā€™s veins then spills over and seeps into his marrow:
Steve doesnā€™t think that man actually meant getting lost that way.
And what on earth is he supposed to make ofĀ that, save everything that he canā€™t have; that cannotĀ be?
Though, in fairness: it would be on brand. Steven Harrington of Hawkins.
Falling hard and fast and more real than ever before, mere hours before he leaves the mortal coil.
~~~~~~~~~~
ā€œYouā€™re anxious.ā€
Steve knows now that his dreams were realty, last night. The words, the arms.
He is awake in them now after they eat what Eddieā€™s secured for them, cooked over a fire perfectly pitched outside the mouth of the cave, its warmth not insufficient as theyā€™d eaten in pleasant company together.
Not insufficient at all. Just notĀ thisĀ chest;Ā theseĀ arms.
And now they are both of them bare to the waist, knowingly and happily curled into one another, and Steve feels on one hand boneless, weightless, inexplicablyĀ heldĀ andĀ keptĀ beyond the physical in the embrace of a man he barely knows and yet feelsā€¦close to. Something-he-cannot-bring-himself-to-say-at-first sight, like in the fairy stories.
But that manā€™s palm is splayed across Steveā€™s chest; can feel the birdsā€™ wings of his heartbeat at first stroke.
For the first time in Steveā€™s life, it doesnā€™t feel like a weakness heā€™s caught out on; with Eddie nuzzling at his hair, Steve doesnā€™t hesitate to speak his fear with a heavy sigh:
ā€œYou said youā€™ve dealt with dragons.ā€
ā€œTime to time,ā€ Eddie hums, presses his lips to Steveā€™s scalp like reassurance.
ā€œHow will it happen?ā€ Steve whispers shakily, but for the first time in his entire life, he shakesĀ intoĀ someone who seems to care, against all reason; who holds tighter to him for needing rather than casting him away.
ā€œI mean, I know,ā€ Steve licks his lips; ā€œI know what willĀ happen, just,ā€ and he canā€™t quite finish, chokes around his words. Eddie moves closer against him, under the weight of Steveā€™s frame, maneuvers them so that he can tilt his head just so to kiss down Steveā€™s jaw while still holding him close; ever closer.
ā€œWell,ā€ Eddie pecks against the peak of Steveā€™s cheekbone before moving down, all the while massaging circles against Steveā€™s chest; ā€œa town sends their most valued,ā€ and he sucks a little the, against Steveā€™s jawline; ā€œbut some towns have less to pick from,ā€ and then he finds Steveā€™s pulse point and suckles there with real feeling until Steve may be terrified, but heā€™s simultaneously soft clay in a beautiful manā€™s hands, under a beautiful manā€™s mouth.
ā€œA dragon is not a mindless beast,ā€ Eddie adds after Steve can feel heā€™s been well and thoroughly bruised.
ā€œIā€™ve always heard theyā€™re very smart,ā€ Steve breathes, maybe nods, mostly just savors Eddieā€™s heat, his nearness, how he touches Steve likeĀ heĀ has value; like Steve has value toĀ him, and what a thing to feel, to want, to possiblyĀ hold, even for these stolen moments; ā€œitā€™s how they tell if you send them less than theyā€™re owed.ā€
Because of course Steve knows the stories. Steve can remember countless tales of horrific ends for villages, towns, whole kingdoms even, razed for being so haughty and foolish as to try and swindle a dragonā€”perhaps embellished to encourage childrenā€™s behavior, but. The bones of the narrative fit the oft-smoldering evidence often enough, so far as Steve could tell in the proper histories.
ā€œNot owed,ā€ Eddie corrects, firmly but somehow also gently, his capacity for dynamism an oddly comforting thing, so human and forgiving of overstepping boundaries so freely as to maybe not even draw any to begin with, at complete odds with Steveā€™s entire life; ā€œnot how most people think, at least.ā€
Eddie flip Steve over gently, firmly again, settles them chest to chest, one atop the other as Steve looks down at him, feels his heartbeat crash against Eddieā€™s own closer than ought to be felt, like their ribs clear way for the two of them, for whatever they could be, and Steve wonders if part of why his heart is racing so is for the loss of the possibility that rushes through him, that swells between them in every momentā€”something that grows in every moment, every look and touch and blink, that expands effervescent and filled with soĀ muchĀ without any knowledge that there is not space to hold it, that what time they have is borrowed at best.
Steve thinks maybe; his sick heart for it could be railing where the rest of him is fixated on etching every one of those looks and blinks and touches into his bones so that they may be among the last parts of him to leave the earth.
ā€œA dragon, above most things, has a particularly keen sense to know precisely where value lies,ā€ Eddieā€™s explaining again, his hand now still, pressed against Steveā€™s heart akin to a shield, or a safe-hold. ā€œAnd how.ā€
Steve ponder that for a moment before he meets Eddieā€™s eyes, having felt them heavy and molten upon him with new fire before taking them in for all that they are: brilliance.
Blinding.
Steve leans as Eddie arches and they meet in between to press their lips together after what feels an eternity and an instant of living in a world where they didnā€™t taste one another in such a way as to drink their fill. As to breathe each otherā€™s breath.
So as to tease and cherish deep, to tongue against the very heart.
And there Steve makes certain, before he loses himself wholly to sensation:
Looks. Touches. Blinks. Carved into his bones, but first.
First heā€™ll gild them in every single kiss.
~~~~~~~~~~
They transition fully into lovers in a seamless fashion, insatiable like Steveā€™s never known it. Eddie never keeps him wanting, gives selflessly and Steve does all that he can to reciprocate and more, because Eddie is everything, of that Steve is certain, and therefore he deserves no less.
He also seems dead set on making sure that they are posed as equals. That to lavish one another with affections as much as to ravish each other endless never unbalances one way or the other. Wherever Steve seeks to give more where Eddie should have it, Eddie turns the tables to takes Steve apart so that all he knows is tingly euphoria. A happiness heā€™s never felt, didnā€™t quite believe could exist.
Yet here he is. Here they are.
Steve smiles more than he remembers, playful and ravenous and overflowing with feeling, and Eddie doesnā€™t rise to meet his enthusiasm: heā€™s already there, matched with him and ecstatic to entwine. Itā€™s a heady thing, addictive and overwhelming and a gift, Steve thinks: maybe the universe forgive him for doing less to stop harm and deprivation in his home, for wishing to help more and acting where he could even if it wasnā€™t enough. Maybe he gets this sliver of heaven out of pity for whatā€™s to come.
He will take it with open arms. He will welcome it. He will make himself of it until there is not Steve that exists outside of it.
But it cannot overcome the inevitable, in its impending, suffocating weight.
Come the sixth day like thisā€”the sixthĀ nightĀ like thisā€”something in Steve gives way. Existing on the precipice of life and death with no telling of when the hammer with strike finally takes too much of a toll, and his nerves betray him.
ā€œLikely they are hunting, it can take many days, weeks even Iā€™m told,ā€ Eddie tries to console him as he shakes, canā€™t even sob, like his body canā€™t coordinate even that much to work properly, too distraught are pieces of him heā€™s flooded with pleasure but finally could no longer be denied, fed on his wonderment and picked until it cracked enough for his fears to bleed through. ā€œBut if you are still so anxious we could, or, I could try and look for some clue as to where itā€™s gone?ā€ Eddie offers carefully, holding Steve together as he does his utmost to shudder out of his skin. ā€œAnd you can stay here, in case it returns?ā€
The only thing Steve can do then is shake his head until it hurts, until heā€™s dizzy with his own vehement denial: itā€™s the first things thatā€™s properly matched, body to feeling.
Itā€™s fitting that way.
ā€œI,ā€ Steve starts, just voice barely a scratch as Eddie reaches, tips his chin upward and cups his face so delicate:
ā€œWhat, angel?ā€
Steve blinks at himā€”takes him in, presses down to pain as he draws it, brands it onto his skeleton to be remembered, all the tangled butĀ powerfulfeelings he has for this man so fast, soĀ strong.
For this man, for all heĀ feels: Steve makes himself speak whatā€™s heavy and true andĀ realĀ in his galloping heart:
ā€œI have no intention of reneging my duties,ā€ he rasps, holds on to Eddie as tightly as he can, as if maybe their bones could brand oneā€™s another and fuse into one.
ā€œBut until no choice is left, I,ā€ Steve chokes, and his eyes burn as he holds Eddieā€™s gaze, lifts Eddieā€™s hand away from his cheek and over to his lips to press all his hopeless hopes against Eddieā€™s palms:
ā€œI donā€™t want to be out of your sight, nor you taken from mine.ā€
The tear that escapes him then is caught by Eddieā€™s thumb. Adoringly.
Each that follows is lost between Eddieā€™s lips; might belong to them both.
Steve thinks he can believe that muchā€”in these fleeting, sacred momentā€”to be true.
~~~~~~~~~~
The dragon has still not appeared, and Steve has since collected himself for the most part, with Eddie ready to brace him steady when he starts to falter. Itā€™s a wild novel thing, to be supported this way. To be cared for.
With such care, comes perception. For better or worse.
ā€œWhat troubles you, beloved?ā€ Eddie eyes him knowingly, a level of sight straight through to Steveā€™s soul that should not be fathomable in a lifetime, let alone a weekā€™s time.
ā€œMy own mind,ā€ Steve admits freely, unwilling any longerā€”if he ever had beenā€”to hide from Eddie, unsure what the point would be even if he desired to: ā€œit is cowardly, and selfish.ā€
ā€œI doubt that,ā€ Eddie catches Steveā€™s jawbone with a single finger, playful, endearing: but clear in its pointed redirection of Steveā€™s gaze, and his disparagement of his own thoughts:
ā€œI would doubt that quite strongly, in fact.ā€
Steve lets Eddie touch prompt him to a kiss, as if he needs coaxing before he leans into the crook of Eddieā€™s neck and breathes him in: the best savours of the ground and sky.
ā€œI would not run from my fate, here,ā€ Steve says, not wholly to remind himself but, not without that purpose at hand; ā€œsave that it feels like my fate isā€¦ā€
And he slides his hand to Eddieā€™s chest, hopes it speaks for him where he doesnā€™t know words for the depth and breadth andĀ weightĀ of these feelings; Eddieā€™s hand covers his, automatic, and he knows heā€™s understood.
ā€œI wish not to be parted from you, now that Iā€™ve found you,ā€ Steve whispers, swallows hard, then looks Eddie in the eyes, speaks straight to the soul in them so that he is not misread, or underestimated in the weight of his own words, now:
ā€œI think that I may be in love with you.ā€
And heā€™s never been before. Heā€™s believed it may be love, but: no. No, it was never love before.
If ever it was love: it isĀ this.
ā€œOh my precious one,ā€ Eddie pets his hair and kisses after his own touch: ā€œI donā€™t think that Iā€™m in love with you,ā€ and Steve stiffens only for the instant Eddie leaves between those words, and dipping down to Steveā€™s ear to exhale withĀ feeling:
ā€œIĀ knowĀ it.ā€
How it is possible to die brokenhearted and happier than heā€™d ever dreamed, Steve doesnā€™t know.
But heā€™s about to serve as object lesson, in just days.
Maybe less.
~~~~~~~~~~
ā€œKnow that when,ā€ Steve is speaking to the cracks in the rock that peek at the night sky as he speaks, Eddie on his chest like a blanket, save so much better; ā€œwhen it happens,mwhen it devours me whole or takes me in pieces,ā€ and his voice catches, but he remains resolute; ā€œit will know you in every inch of me,ā€ and he cups Eddie closer to him then, holds him against the thunderous roar of his pulse.
ā€œMy heart is full of you, and it will taste only of devotion,ā€ Steve near-hisses for the fervor in him. ā€œYouā€™ll be the last bit of me known to the world.ā€
ā€œNever.ā€
The growl that comes from the body that curls around him, protective,Ā possessive, beloved in a way and to a magnitude Steve didnā€™t know he could feel before now: theĀ venomĀ in it makes it clear that itā€™s not a refutation of Steveā€™s declaration for the sentiment.
Itā€™s a refutation to the cosmos itself.
ā€œI would never allow it,ā€ Eddie bites out, pressing closer to Steve, to hisĀ heart: ā€œyou will not be forfeit to some dragon,ā€ and oh, but this man Steve loves is wild with his passion, foolhardy and yet all the more lovable for it.
ā€œI would fight with all that I am to protect you,ā€ he vows, presses his lips to Steveā€™s chest and speaks there like he means well and truly to means to tell Steve to the heart of him this sole, unshakeable truth: ā€œand should somehow I lose the battle, it could only be because there is nothing of me left to fight.ā€
And for the first time, in all his life: Steve clings to something,Ā someone, heā€™d happily rip his beating heart out to protect.
And thatā€”he realizes in a single world-rewriting instantā€”he fears the loss of more than any other thing.
Any. Other. Thing.
~~~~~~~~~~
They donā€™t speak of it, or of a choice to be made when the time does come: Steve thinks maybe thatā€™s the only way they manage at all, really, is to simply hold it between them in those last days. Known. Seen.
Loved.
AndĀ feared.
But always together. Always soĀ close, in every way.
Until the stasis breaks.
ā€œSteve,ā€ Eddie breathes into the afternoon, innocuous. Steveā€™s stopped counting how many days theyā€™ve stolen together.
ā€œI must leave, my darling.ā€
Steve narrows his eyes, trying to understand him. He watches as Eddie hurries to gather both of Steveā€™s hands, to bring them to his lips.
ā€œOnly for a short while,ā€ he murmurs between Steveā€™s fingers, kisses at his knuckles with apology, and with heartsickness thick between his breaths: ā€œbarely a moment,ā€ and his breath is short, thin, like the thought of leaving hurts.
And Steveā€¦Steve has been in love for the first time, with the perfect match to his very soul. Unthinkable, but undeniable.
But it hasnā€™t made himĀ whollyĀ blind.
He means to press, toĀ seeĀ if the slight little inklings heā€™s had every so often hold any weight, point in any direction of significance, means to ask just a simple thing, but then Eddieā€™s expression breaks open, a miasma of emotion spilling forth as his breath catches, monumental on a sob and he takes the hands at his lips and instead uses them to bury his face.
ā€œOh, my Steve,ā€ he breathes, and all Steve can really see are the heaving lifts of his shoulders, and the way his curls fall a little like a monsoon.
ā€œI am sorry,ā€ Eddie whispers into Steve hands and Steve feels dampness there, and oh. No.
Not from Eddie. Not for whatever this is. Steve can think of nothing, save Eddie leaving for good before the end, that he should be moved to apologize for. And even that Steve would forgive.
Because Steve loves him.
ā€œWhy?ā€ Steve asks, incredulous, his own half-formed ideas to seek to know gone at the sight of his beloved in distress. ā€œWhat reason on earth do you have to be sorry, you said,ā€ and Steve halts, wonders if thatā€™s the catch, and tries not to falter without reason, tries to stand tall: ā€œonly a moment,ā€ and that is what Eddie said, he said only aā€”
ā€œI lied.ā€
Steve does to falter.
He starts to fracture and fall entirely. Because what, what all was a lie, was itĀ allĀ a lie, heā€”
He doesnā€™t know if he can breathe. Heā€™s never lost his heart before. But he imagines that if death is still waiting for him, and heā€™ll face it alone: itā€™s what heā€™d planed for. What heā€™s prepared for from the start.
He knows how to be alone. It has to hurt less, than losing his heart now.
It will have to hurt less, at theĀ veryĀ end, if it comes to him without a heart in his breast.
ā€œIt was worth every second, no matter that it must end, in joy or heartbreak,ā€ Steve finds himself saying, and if his tone rings hollow, itā€™s only because his heartā€™s already leaking from him, already half-gone: he means it with every bit he has left, nonetheless.
ā€œYou are the moon, pulling me close,ā€ he turns his hands so his palms line to Eddieā€™s; ā€œthe sun wrapping me in warmth,ā€ and he folds their fingers together, clutches tight one last time, greedy as anything:
ā€œYou have been the greatest gift at the end of all Iā€™ll ever know.ā€ And that is the truth, that is the last words and final rites written on his bones. ā€œBecause of you, I will die fulfilled in ways I didnā€™t realize I was lacking.ā€
And then thereā€™s just one thing, because Steve, Steve needs to say this part, he doesnā€™t think heā€™s said this part yet:
ā€œThank you.ā€
He means it.
But Eddie only holds onto him harder, painfully but itā€™s perfection; only shakes his head over and over before he finally rasps, barely audible:
ā€œYou misunderstand.ā€
Steve leans closer to hear him, to feel him, to know his warmth in the lat moments that might be left. He wants to understand. He doesnā€™t want the end to be anything but clear.
Even if it hurts.
ā€œI haveĀ lied,ā€ Eddie swallows hard; ā€œbut you misunderstand for what.ā€
Steveā€¦still misunderstands.
ā€œYouĀ have been my moon,ā€ Eddie nearly moans, his head nuzzling into Steveā€™s hands, his hold, with nothing short of desperation:ā€œyouĀ have been the sun since the first revelation when I was taught as barely a hatchling that my kind were born of suns, made from fire.ā€
And that. Itā€™s been those small things:Ā someĀ dragon. NotĀ owed. No dragon would find himĀ unworthy.
TheĀ ego to presume.
This is no longer a small thing, spoken now.
ā€œYou stole my heart straight away, and I gave it freely but,ā€ Eddie hiccups the slightest bit; ā€œI only grow in relishing that of all the souls in all the worlds, yours has welcomed mine,ā€ and heĀ sniffles, by every god and power in all theĀ worldsā€”
ā€œYou are aĀ privilege.ā€
And oh,Ā oh, but byĀ every god and power: SteveĀ lovesĀ him.
ā€œAnd you have a dragonā€™s heart now, no matter how you choose to use it, to keep or reject it,ā€ foolish words Eddie speaks so messy, so rushed and ragged, so ripped out from him visceral and slick with feeling: ā€œand your end will be my end,ā€ and his lips brush Steveā€™s hands, kiss the pulse on both his wrists:
ā€œAnd either that will be unmeasurable ages hence,ā€ and his breath catches, and Steve only wants for him to look up, just look up, because heā€™s said it without saying now, hasnā€™t he, muddled and frantic and so human, to say heā€™s anything but as he admits to the thing he thinks he needs to offer apology for.
ā€œOr,ā€ he trips over the next words, but theyā€™re soĀ soddenĀ withĀ candor, the blood in his veins:
ā€œOr my heart may turn ash if you leave but,ā€ and he brings the heels of both Steveā€™s hands to his mouth and kisses, speaks into them worshipfully:
ā€œYour life will go on as a mortalā€™s, once Iā€™veā€”ā€
ā€œYouā€™ve given your heart?ā€
Because Steve had suspicions. Of why Eddie said certain things, certain ways. How warm he was. How strong and even andā€¦ancientĀ the beating of his heart resonated beneath Steveā€™s ear, his touch, like it radiated heat as a sun in itself.
ā€œOf course,ā€ Eddieā€™s head snaps up, like heā€™s offended at any suggestion to the contrary; ā€œalmost immediately.ā€
He blinks; he forgets himself. Thereā€™s a lid to his starburst eyes that closes unlike Steveā€™s, the opposite direction, almost invisible.
But Steveā€™s watching. Steve doesnā€™t blink once, cannot miss this.
Cannot pause what he writes into his bones because even if he plans for nothing less than ages unmeasurable, now, he wants this written on the bones that come in the end.
Whenever the end stretches out to.
ā€œAnd if itā€™s ill received,ā€ Steve asks slowly, his brows pinching as he picks through the implications of this part: ā€œyouā€”ā€
ā€œWither, slowly,ā€ Eddie says, far too matter-of-fact for Steveā€™s liking, or willingness to stand: ā€œbut the end comes, yes.ā€
ā€œEddie,ā€ Steve scolds, and Eddie flinches, thinks heā€™s been caught, been known and revealed now and in so being is anything but wanted with all of Steveā€™s being.
There is a tiny part of Steve thatā€™s grateful for his foolishness: it makes Steve feel less alone, to be swept so by a love thisĀ vast.
ā€œYou are the dearest treasure Iā€™ve ever known,ā€ Eddie whispers, but itā€™s a pleading thing, something even Steve can tell doesnā€™t feel as if it had a hope to grasp; ā€œif you let me keep you I would hold you closer than all things. To give a dragonā€™s heart means to place whatever holds it closer than the heart itself ever learned to rest on its own,ā€ and Eddie gathers Steveā€™s hands again to his chest, stacks them, presses so very hard.
The life in him is a sobering thing. The idea that Steve holds this power somehow in his hands, literally and otherwise, isā€¦staggering.
No less thenĀ amazing.
ā€œYou are my single desire, but more,ā€ Eddie breathes; ā€œyou are my single care, my sole concern,ā€ ā€œmyĀ only.ā€
ā€œWhy do you leave, then?ā€
And Eddie stills. Pulls back only so much as to weigh what he sees in Steveā€™s face, Steveā€™s eyesā€”what Steve sees in his is clear: Eddie didnā€™t think heā€™d get to this part. He thought Steve would balk at learning his lover was something more than mere human.
Specifics aside, Steve could have told anyone that from the night that they met.
And so Eddie, bowled over by the shock of the fact that Steve still holds to him, does not waver, seems to speak unvarnished when he answers:
ā€œThe things you have shared,ā€ and Steve knows without expansion what Eddie means: tales of home, of his family, of hisĀ parents, of how he came to be here, pledged as sacrifice for the good of his town, whispered in the dark as they watched the stars move slow; ā€œI can bear it no longer, my darling.ā€
And Eddie straightens further then, and Steve sees what he dismissed as the play of the light: the glow in Eddieā€™s eyes unmistakable as something other, something fromĀ within.
ā€œI demand the most valued,ā€ Eddieā€™s words come out in a hiss, shape even as he hesitates, leaves every moment for Steve to pull away should his touch be unwanted as he reaches to brush Steveā€™s hair from his face.
ā€œYou are that and more to me and yet,ā€ and he shakes his head, and itā€™s so strange still to be marveled at this way: unbridled and unashamed.
ā€œYou said it yourself, valuable,ā€ Eddie nearly spits the word, like a poison he seeks to eke out; ā€œand yet I believe thatĀ IĀ said something different.ā€
Steve frowns, tries to put together the pieces but then his face is framed in long fingers that span the whole of him, fittingly so, as Eddie looks deed in his eyes and says with force and feeling:
ā€œValued,ā€ he emphasizes with a kiss; ā€œbeloved,ā€ and another, and Steve cannot help but smile into it just the slightest bit, his heart soaring as the other piecesā€”borrowed time and impending ends and forevers in view all at once rearranging into what he thinks might be anĀ alwaysĀ with this man whoā€™s more than a man when he speaks against Steveā€™s mouth:
ā€œPrecious beyond all else and others.ā€
He pulls back, and marvels more, then narrows his eyes in a way Steveā€™s never seen, pupils contracting inward from the sides into slits.
ā€œYou areĀ mine,ā€ Eddie growls; ā€œbut the demands we make are not idle, and they did not value you as you deserved,ā€ Eddie scowls, and Steve sees it now, where heā€™s going, what heā€™s doing:
ā€œAnd they thought it acceptable to send you to me as theirĀ most valued, believing they sent you to your death?ā€ Eddie seethes:
ā€œIt cannot go unpunished.ā€
Steveā€¦sees it. Understands, now.
It does not hurt, the idea of losing people who were family only in name, especially not to the man before him, who is all that family should mean, could mean, will mean.
Always, now.
ā€œThe villagers are innocents, please,ā€ Steve whispers, and Eddie cups his cheek, so lovingly itĀ aches.
ā€œFret not,ā€ he says with that warmth that Steveā€™s melted in from the very start; ā€œI know who deserves my ire.ā€ His expression sours, hardens:
ā€œAnd they will know their hard-earned consequences.ā€
Eddie kisses Steve with a kind of devotion bigger than the sky somehow, and itā€™s only because Steveā€™s reeling to get his footing back that he trails behind Eddie and not at his side as he makes to depart.
ā€œPlease do not follow me, beloved,ā€ he calls over his shoulder, not breaking his pace; ā€œI do not wish you to see-ā€œ
ā€œI will stay,ā€ Steve answers, like the words were waiting on this tongue of this very moment: ā€œif.ā€
Eddie stills; turns.
ā€œIf?ā€
ā€œYou promise to return with all haste,ā€ Steve reaches him quick and is the one who kisses with all that he knows, all that he can imagine, all that he holds inside of himself and shares already with Eddie uninhibited; ā€œI will be cold without you.ā€
And that makes Eddie soften; smile as he promises:
ā€œDone.ā€
ā€œAnd,ā€ Steve adds, pulling away from Eddieā€™s lips to look him straight on as Eddieā€™s brow quirks in question:
ā€œAnd?ā€
ā€œChange for me.ā€
And Eddie, for once, is wholly dumbfounded. Speechless.
Itā€™s quite a feat to behold.
ā€œYou,ā€ he stammers; ā€œyou wish to see,ā€ he shakes his head, disbelieving; ā€œbeloved, it is not, I am,ā€ and oh, oh: Steve did not expect this part: ā€œwe are cast as fearsome creatures for good reason.ā€
He is wary. He is cautious. He thinks himself the monster. He wants to hide this part from Steve.
But Steve will haveĀ nothingĀ hidden between them, least of all this: the whole of who his loveĀ is.
ā€œI do not fear you, I could not,ā€ Steve pledges in truth; ā€œand any creature with your heart, who has capturedĀ myĀ soul,ā€ Steve grabs Eddieā€™s shoulders and draws him in, bows those foreheads into one another:
ā€œYou could never be anything short of exquisite. Breathtakingly so.ā€
Eddies breathing is hitched, stuttering. Steve wants to cry for the way he is surprised. Wants to mourn for whatever hurt him to make him this cautious, this stunned by Steveā€™sĀ love: unconditional.
Undying, now that itā€™s possible to give as such, and in truth.
And Steve waits, watches him, stares patient until Eddie sighs deeply, steps back far and then closes his eyes andā€¦becomes.
Larger, of course. The wings are a feat. The talons are less a surprise from his spindly fingers.
Heā€™s, he isā€¦
ā€œYou are,ā€ Steve reaches, waits until Eddie comes to him, welcomes his touchĀ thisĀ way and to feel him, smooth scale not so unlike the chest bare against him in the nightā€”warmth and safety and all that isĀ right:
ā€œMagnificent. And I would know you,ā€ Steve tells him, seeks his gaze as he speaks from the very core of his being: ā€œeven if I hadnā€™t seen it for myself.ā€
He steps closer, waits for Eddie to be curious enough to bow his head low so Steve can mimic how theyā€™d stood, forehead pressed just moments before.
ā€œThese unfathomable eyes,ā€ he whispers between them, and smiles at how those eyes fall closed in something like relief, like comfort after laying down a heavy burden as Steve reaches for the soft underbelly in lighter scales against the charcoal of the rest of his belovedā€™s form:
ā€œThe might of this heart,ā€ and he presses, and yes, exactly as he knew heā€™d find: thunderous. Could part seas, reshape the globe, stir the stars.
And itā€™sĀ Steveā€™s. So he doesnā€™t hesitate to press his lips above the breathing and breathe out:
ā€œUnmistakable, my darling.ā€
When he pulls back those eyes truly are just the same: they wonder. They marvel.
At Steve. Just Steve.
Itā€™s intoxicating.
ā€œDo what must be done,ā€ Steve nuzzles at the side of Eddieā€™s face, pulls his snout to his shoulder so he can kiss at what he supposes is something of a cheek, and then he pulls back, lets go.
But only their bodies. Nothing more. Never anything more. Not ever again.
ā€œThen come home to me.ā€
Steve could be wrong, or just wishful, but he thinks Eddie glows from within through theĀ wholeĀ of himself, and not just his eyes, as he takes flight and shoots like the star Steve always saw inside him, up into the night.
~~~~~~~~~~
Itā€™s not long. Itā€™s just as Eddie promised.
After everything, Steve hadnā€™t worried at all that it would be anything else.
ā€œIt was painless,ā€ is what Eddie says as he walks back into the cave, a man again; ā€œand it was for the sake of justice overdue,ā€ as if he must explain. Or seek forgiveness.
Steve pulls him in and kisses him until heā€™s breathless as an answer for both concerns.
ā€œWhat now?ā€ he canā€™t help but ask. He is still more in love than he can breathe through. Will live and die exactly that way for time innumerable.
ā€œYou wish to be here, with me?ā€ Eddie asks, almost hesitant; seeking.ā€œYou do not feel indebted, or, or coerced? Or tricked or held by force orā€”ā€
Steve grins at the babbling, the nervous rambles. To think theyā€™re because ofĀ him.
It might just give him an absolutelyĀ unbearableĀ ego of his own if itā€™s to be the norm forevermore.
ā€œLove,ā€ Steve presses a single raised finger to the missile of Eddieā€™s lips, watches as he adorable crosses his eyes to follow its trajectory.
ā€œYou are all that I have imagined and never thought to find.ā€ And it really is as simple and as unthinkable as that, in the end. Or the beginning. ā€œThe only way I would be anywhere but your side is to be torn from it, or sent away.ā€
Eddie growls at the first suggestion, and huffs in pure offense at the suggestion of the second as he reaches and pulls Steve flush to his body: warm, warm,Ā warm.
Steveā€™s heart flutters against him, reminding him that he owns it wholly.
Eddieā€™s drums in protective answer, welcoming as much as seeking to leap into Steveā€™s chest on the same promise, the same pledge as he murmurs into Steveā€™s lips:
ā€œYou still misestimate what it means to be loved by a dragon,ā€ and drags his mouth against Steveā€™s bottom lips, a little wanton even as his words carry the weight of the universe entire:
ā€œThis,ā€ and he clutches Steveā€™s closer still, so as to not be mistaken; ā€œis for as much of eternity as is for us to grasp.ā€
It is not sacrifice at all to kiss the man, to love the dragon, in front of him, now.
And for the rest of time ahead.
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For @a-little-unsteddie, who requested the quote 'Magic' at my HOBBIT-STYLE BIRTHDAY MONTH PROMPT FEST
āœØpermanent tag list: OPEN (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @pearynice @hbyrde36 @slashify @finntheehumaneater @wxrmland @dreamwatch @perseus-notjackson @estrellami-1 @bookworm0690 @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @nerdyglassescheeseychick @swimmingbirdrunningrock @goodolefashionedloverboi @sanctumdemunson @theheadlessphilosopher
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ghostbite0 Ā· 3 days ago
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about the infantilizing Giyuu and motherly Shinobu post, 100% yes.
So many people baby Giyuu and make him a sad uwu baby who needs someone to take care of him. He isn't. If anything, he's the one doing the caring, esp when it comes to Tanjiro and Nezuko.
And Shinobu doesn't need to be made a maternal figure to him! She's younger than him, for one, and two, the whole reason she has a "maternal" aura (if you could even call it that) is because she's trying to emulate Kanae. It's not a healthy reason.
(sorry if this is worded badly!)
YESSSS this is a really good point anon! thank you for sharing!!
giyuuā€™s relationship with tanjiro and nezuko is really really sweet and i agree that i see him more in caregiving roles!! someone on the original post reblogged and mentioned wanting to see more tired dad energy from giyuu and i absolutely agree
and to your point, the maternal vibes people get from shinobu are her projection of kanae );
at the end of the day everyone has their own preferences and thatā€™s totally fine!!! @kny-agere makes a great point on the post and notes people may put giyuuā€™s in these roles to cope with their own things or simply because giyuuā€™s the favorite, and thats fine! i do that with obanai and muichiro all the timeā€¦ but to their point self actualization can be good esp if you are always putting the female character in these roles
i dunnoā€¦ i was raised by a stay at home dad so maybe i have personal beef with the concept of the mother always taking care of the kids :,D part of it too is shinobu is still very young ): girl get behind me
maybe im also just annoyed by mischaracterization of characters. even in non baby situations giyuu is infantilized a lot. take sanegiyuu for instanceā€” i feel that people take typical yaoi cliches and apply them here, with sanemi being this tough sexy man and giyuus just šŸ„ŗ and submissive.
guys i have bad news but if sanemi even was a tough sexy man and he said something to giyuu that giyuu doesnt like, sanemiā€™s getting sassed back or ghosted because giyuu walked off fully knowing it would aggravate sanemi
i dunno. the fandomification of these characters is really interesting. everyone applies these traits to sanemi not realizing tengen is right there with said traits already, for instance. infantilization. stereotypes. etc
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dabis-azure-songstress Ā· 3 days ago
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could you do headcanons for dabi whoā€™s with a s/o that is a really kind and giving individual. he didnā€™t like it at first and he thought his s/o being so kind to people who were less fortunate like the homeless was a bad thing but he starts to pick up on their behavior and his s/o catches him doing something nice for something and they both realize heā€™s started to pick up after his s/o
Ooo, yes, absolutely! I feel like I can relate to this very well. I can already imagine all the things he'll say. I'm sorry this took so long. I've been trying to focus and take a bit better care of myself than I have been, especially with the carpal tunnel. I hope all of you will enjoy these anyway. I feel so bad about not posting here or on my A03. Thank you so much for your request! Please enjoy this, Dabi Goddesses!
Pairing: Dabi w/ S/O that is really kind and giving
Headcanons or one-shot? Headcanons with a small written scenario
Rating: SFW! Warning though! Dabi is sweet at the end and may steal your heart.
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"You know they're just going to take advantage of you, don't you? You really need to set boundaries, doll."
At first, it really bothers him how kind and selfless you are and also maybe even makes him a little jealous.
And, he can sound very harsh and occasionally really hurt your feelings sometimes with things he says when he nags you about it, but he really means well.
He really doesn't want to see anyone hurt you or take advantage of you. EVER.
"You really are too kind for your own good. It's going to cause you a lot of trouble one of these days."
"You're such a pushover. You couldn't even tell someone, "No" even if you wanted to."
When he sees he hurts your feelings or upsets you, he does feel bad after, however. Believe me.
After a while though, he really grows to admire you and appreciate you.
After all, it takes a lot of courage to keep being yourself and being selfless, even if sometimes you do get hurt in the process.
You do eventually learn to set some healthier boundaries that Dabi takes note of, and he's proud of you, but he also grows to love how sweet you are.
Eventually, you both don't realize you've rubbed off and made him "softer" a little bit.
One day, you are out of the apartment when you hear a child crying. At first, you think Dabi may have said something rude without meaning to, and upset them, but a glance at the scrapes and blood on their knees proves otherwise. Dabi has kneeled down before them carefully.
"Did you go and hurt yourself there, little bit?"
The little one looks up at him with red and puffy eyes, still rubbing at them, and nods meekly.
"First, I need you to get up...C'mon. You can do it."
Dabi reaches out a hand gingerly and helps the young one to their feet carefully as you watch.
"Wanna see something cool to distract you from the pain a little bit? I'm gonna have Y/N go get you some band-aids and ointment."
Another nod in agreement. Dabi takes in a deep breath and carefully kneels back down to the child's height before he holds out a hand and gently alights a small cerulean flame ablaze in his palm. He glances at you carefully.
When you come back with the band-aids and medicine, you notice the child's laughter filling the air. The child is now fully seated on his lap with him carefully juggling the fire around them.
-----
Now bandaged up and much more dry-eyed and content, the mother soon arrives. It turns out the little one had gotten separated in the rush hour of people. She's surprised to see Dabi entertaining her child so well, despite his looks, but offers him a gentle smile and thanks you both softly as she gathers the little one into her arms.
As they're walking away, Dabi just casts his eyes over you.
"Don't even think about it."
"Think about what?" you smile.
"THAT. Stop it."
You giggle softly at him.
"...Maybe it's not so bad."
"Hm?"
"Maybe it's not so bad being just like you...every once in a while."
You can only smile in return as he grabs your hand and interlaces your fingers.
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calm-with-anxiety Ā· 23 hours ago
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If I see or hear people defending their votes for Trump with ā€œwell I didnā€™t really know her policies and plans for her presidencyā€ I will burst into flames. We live in a time where almost every piece of information is in your hand, you couldā€™ve Googled her plans, it was on her fucking website for weeks, it was 80 pages of policy and how they planned to pay for it. Like you chose to be an uneducated voter that got information from commercials and short form video.
The economy line is bullshit because his plans will make everything more expensive, tariffs are payed for by you, you think the multibillion dollar company will take on the extra cost to buy and ship goods by lowering the CEO salary, no, they will make the item more expensive because they never promised you a $200 tv, but they did promise stockholders a dividend of $10/share. His mass deportation policy will cause the economy to collapse because immigrants, legal or illegal, do the jobs that others look down on. You never see a line of white guys in overalls hoping to be hired for below minimum wage to pick fruit for hours in the sun, you donā€™t see young white men showing up to construction jobs that the builder has subcontracted so itā€™s cheaper to build. The bedrock of the U.S. economy is cheap labor and a majority of that is immigrants who are looking for jobs that donā€™t require knowing perfect English and have employers that look the other way when you donā€™t have documents because they know you will work for anything.
Donā€™t even get me started on healthcare, outside of womenā€™s healthcare which will get worse, if he finally gets rid of the affordable care act, aka Obamacare, they will replace it with nothing. The man was president before and after John McCain put his thumb down they never tried to make a new policy that wasnā€™t throwing the whole program into the trash. Also the affordable care act is more than just low cost healthcare, it put in place pre-existing conditions, for those too young to remember, the insurance companies could deny you coverage all because you might get cancer one day because your mother had it, you would have to pay out of pocket for an inhaler because asthma was a pre-existing condition, even if you were diagnosed with it later in life. Donā€™t forget what the vaccine situation will be, especially if he puts RFK jr. anywhere near it, like there is actual fear that Polio will come back because guess what? Most people under the age of 40 are not vaccinated for it because it was considered eradicated due to the mass vaccination of children in the 50s and 60s. When you complain about feeling like shit after getting the flu shot or a Covid booster, that is the vaccine working in your body, your body is doing an internal workout so if and when you come in contact with those viruses you wonā€™t be getting extremely sick or die because someone doesnā€™t know how to cover their cough.
I think this election was proof that you can have all the information and still know nothing because you chose to know nothing. People vote with their eyes, not their mind. Gas where I live has been under $3.00 for months, itā€™s been under $2.50 at the warehouse stores for weeks, but because an ad on tv said prices are rising people believed the tv over their own experience. People saw grocery prices increase and blamed the administration when in reality corporations took advantage of Covid shortages, raised prices, recorded historic profits, and didnā€™t start bring prices down until this summer after people realized what was happening to some extent and even then they didnā€™t return to pre-2020 prices because the profit still needed to be high, they looked at the $2 increase in a bag of chips over 4 years and blamed democrats and not Lays.
This is going to be a painful 4 years, for many people here and abroad, Ukraine will have to depend on Europe which is starting to lean conservative as well and the war in Gaza will take an extreme shift that will make the last year look like a paper cut in terms of humanitarian assistance and a possible end. Itā€™s already getting on my nerves as people tweet ā€œwe keep fightingā€ and ā€œwe need to be strong so they canā€™t do all they plan to do like the first timeā€, itā€™s not going to be like the first time, the adults in the room he had with him, many who came out and supported Harris, are gone and now it will be yes men that he was told to put there by the extreme right like the supporters of project 2025 and billionaires. And for those saying ā€œwell maybe he will die in officeā€, you think JD Vance is better? He allegedly picked him because DT jr. suggested him and if you have ever seen jr. and his takes you would know Vance can be worse.
This is gonna hurt for many people that will now be seen as lower than second class citizens and you wonā€™t even have lower prices to show for it as that seemed to be the reason you voted for him, enjoy your expensive goods as people lost rights.
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fastestmanalive333 Ā· 3 days ago
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The Time Stream. Warning: Fragile
By fastestmanalive333
Bart was shock; he couldn't believe his eyes. It never occur to him the consequences of his time travel would be this bad. But he had been wrong. Very wrong.
It had all began a few hours ago in Bart's history class. They had been studying the prehistoric eras, and had to do a project on these times. Not a problem, unless you were Bart, whom's attention span lasted for about thirty seconds before something else came into his head.
The day ended. Back home, he quickly changed into his Impulse costume and zoomed out. But a millisecond before he reached the door, Max stopped him. "Where do you think you're going Bart?" he asked in a serious tone.
"Uh, out to save the world?" Bart tried to get away from Max, but his grip was too strong.
"Yeah, right. I saw your homework on the table, and I want you to start it right away."
"Fine, O.K, I'll start it right away,"
Max let go of Bart, and he started to climb the stairs, but then vibrated through a nearby wall and got outside. "Bart, come back here right now," Max shouted, but Bart was travelling at top speed. Max realized he had no idea of where he was going, so gave up trying to get him back.
Bart didn't know where he was going either, so he just ran around Manchester looking to see if anything was happening. Nothing was, so he ran to the Young Justice cave instead. Hardly anyone was there except for Red Tornado and Robin.
"Rob! Red! Hey!" he shouted to them.
"Hello Impulse," said Red Tornado.
"Hey Bart. What's up?" Robin asked him.
"Nothing much. Anything wrong in the world?"
"Well, nothing much for us. The Justice League's on something big, and..."
Robin was interrupted by snoring. "Bart, wake up!" he shouted next to Bart's ear.
"WHOA! Sorry man, but that was sort of boring."
"I only said 12 words!"
"Exactly." Robin sighed, and went over to the cave entrance. "Hey Robin, I gotta ask ya something!" Bart shouted to him.
"What?" Robin called back.
"Will you help me with my homework?" Bart said hopefully.
"Do your own homework," came the response.
Bart sighed. He had to find a way to do his project on time. If only he had been listening or...hey, was that a mushroom growing by the computer?
Bart snapped out of it. He had to concentrate. Think, Bart, think. He got it. All he had to do was go through time back to prehistory, write some things down, and he would get a good grade for sure. It was a great idea. He'd done it before, he knew what to do.
Bart began to run. He started off at a normal speed for him, then faster, then faster, then faster and faster and faster andfasterandfasterandfasterandfasterandfasterandfasterandfasterandslowerandslower andslowerandslower and slower and slower and slower and slower until...Bam!
Bart landed in a pile of dirt on the ground. He brushed it off his costume and looked around. He could hardly see anything that interested him. If this was prehistory, where were the dinosaurs? He pulled out a piece of paper and a pen that he'd got to write down the stuff Robin might have told him if had bothered to help. He scribbled down 'Nothing of interest happened during this time'.
He put the paper away and was a bout to go back to the future (Yes, I know it's bad but give me a break!) when he tripped over a quite large reptile on the floor. "Stupid lizard," he muttered, and kicked it. It landed in a hole full of funny-looking liquid. Bart couldn't be bothered to think about what he'd just done, and speed off back to the present day for us.
Which brings us back to the beginning. Bart had got back and saw an amazing sight. All of the people had been turned into half-human half-reptile mutant thingies. He screamed, but regretted it. All of the mutants heard him, and went after him. Luckily though, it was just like the video game 'Lizards from the Planet Reptilion' (What a corny title), a game he had got the highest score on. He dodged the lizards, and decided to go back in time and stop himself from kicking the lizard (Now it's getting a bit complicated.)
He sped up again and ran back to the past (I'll skip the whole 'fasterandfaster' thing 'cos I can't be bothered to do it again) and was back in the past. He looked around and saw himself. He looked really handsome, he thought. But he then saw the lizard and got back to the matter at hand. He zoomed over and picked up the lizard before it got in his way.
He had done it. He had saved the world from himself. Bart had stopped Bart. Wait. Did this mean he was a hero or a villain? He didn't think about it and ran home. He would have to use a...shudder...book to do his project. Oh well. The End. Thank you for reading.
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is-the-owl-video-cute Ā· 4 months ago
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god the world must be so beautiful from behind rose colored glasses so thick you can excuse genocide abroad, violence and inhumane treatment of immigrants at home, a somehow even WORSE policy for COVID that lead to thousands more deaths, did NOTHING about the overturning of Roe v. Wade even though it happened TWO YEARS AGO already, and an increase in police violence and brutality towards black people.
Aw, but guys, guys look peepaw forgave the student loan debt of like ten people, so all thatā€™s fine. Who cares how many black and brown people died under him, he forgave a debt here and there so itā€™s fine.
I mean, who cares that heā€™s so far into senility he needs visual aids to study so he knows how to leave a podium? Who cares if he barely has any awareness that heā€™s the president right now? I mean sure he called Lewinsky ā€œPresident putinā€ and didnā€™t notice trump doing the fast part of rap god in that debate to get as many lies out as possible, guys itā€™s ok! Biden expanded NATO! Arenā€™t you happy? Donā€™t you feel safe? Come on, we can trust the weird hair sniffing pervert who can only hold on a coherent conversation about golf at this point, but hey! Heā€™s not trump so no matter how many policies he shares with trump and how severely they are implemented, his name is Biden so itā€™s ok!
Who wouldnā€™t trust Biden? I mean, sure he said in 2020 he would be a single-term President and pass the torch to another democrat for the next term and all, but hey!
Who cares if he lies through his teeth, heā€™s just a politician he canā€™t help that!
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Me, too! And you can't convince me otherwise.
#Of course the pfp for the oop is the whitest man Iā€™ve ever seen#who wants to place bets if heā€™s cishet too?#making him completely unaffected by any of the mess Biden has made#this entire post is fully irrelevant since Biden has a snowballā€™s chance in hell at winning now#can the Democratic Party stop sucking him off and just pick a different nominee because theyā€™re tossing trump a soft ball here#no one likes him except white libs and thereā€™s a reason for that#ā€™oh but trump will make project 2025 happenā€™#what has Biden done to stop that#Yes trump would endorse it more but Biden does not care about stopping any part of it#thatā€™s why he hasnā€™t made any move to protect the right to an abortion#because at the end of the day heā€™s a Catholic fundamentalist who doesnā€™t believe anyone should have recreational sex#he doesnā€™t care about women#he doesnā€™t care about queers#he doesnā€™t care about BIPOC#he is not and never has been a friend to anyone but white conservative Americans#heā€™s only on the dem ballot out of nepotism#And he was only chosen as Obamaā€™s vp because it made racist Americans feel safer#because they figured the racist white man would keep Obama in line#because Biden was known for his pro-segregation viewpoints as recently as 20 years ago#i know people on here are too young to realize this#but Biden has always been looked at as a conservative#but some of you happily eat rat poison from the palm of his hand while he pats your head saying itā€™s alright Jack#because a blue colored tie is all it takes for you morons to believe someone is your ally
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ruporas Ā· 2 years ago
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lonely
[ID: A limited palette of green and pink, Vashwood comic. The first page serves as a prologue. The first panel shows Vash speaking to someone off screen while Wolfwood is lingering behind him. A black arrow is drawn pointing at him. In the second panel, Vash is buying donuts in the distance while Wolfwood is once again in view, lingering. and the black arrow is drawn pointing at him. In the third panel, Vash is leaving a cubicle and turning towards his right with a slightly peeved expression. He sees Wolfwood, leaning against the cubicle, waiting for him, and with the black arrow drawn, pointing at him, implicating the consistent hovering of Wolfwoodā€™s presence during Vashā€™s everyday. At the bottom of the page, theyā€™re drawn out of panel with Vash turning to Wolfwood and saying with an irritated expression, ā€œYouā€™re really following me everywhere, huh?ā€ Wolfwood responds, ā€œWhat, you got a problem?ā€ Vash responds without hesitation, ā€œYeah, kinda...ā€
The second page starts with a new day. In the first panel, Vash is seen alone, weighing apples in his hands at a mart, with crowds passing behind him. In the second panel, he turns to his right and starts to say, ā€œHey, Wolfwood...ā€ In the third panel, heā€™s startled from seeing a stranger, whom heā€™d accidentally called out to when he was expecting to see Wolfwood. He says, ā€œOh, youā€™re not him. Sorry!ā€ In the fourth panel, the stranger walks off and Vash muses, ā€œRight, he said he had something to do today...ā€
The third page begins with a close up of Vash's miffed expression, the continuation of Vash's thoughts, "Now that he's not here, this is just like how I used to be, but... It feels lonely somehow. Oh well, I'll see him again tonight, like always." In the second panel, it shows Vash walking through the marketplace crowd, alone. In the third panel, the door panel is a close up of the door opening with a peek of Vash's head. He says, "Wolfwood!" In the fourth panel, Vash is holding a bag of food with a bright smile and says, "Are you hungry? I got you something to eat today!"
The fourth page begins with a shot of the room, two beds being highlighted, one of them being made properly with the blanket draped over the bed and the other with the blanket folded and pillow sitting on top of it. There's no sign of Wolfwood. The second panel shows Vash with a disappointed look as he thinks, "He's still not here?" The third panel shows Vash putting the bag of food on the table. Stapled to the paper bag is the receipt with a written note "For Wolfwood." Vash's thoughts continue "He does like to stay out so, I guess there's no reason to worry..." The fourth panel shows Vash sitting his bed somberly with his thoughts continued, "It's not any of my business anyway..."
The fifth page starts with a close up his blank expression as he looks downwards, thinking, "Even if he left completely... That'd be understandable and better for him. I'll just travel alone again... like before... Huh?" The next panel shows Vash's composure break, tears welling up in his eyes suddenly, as he didn't expect to cry. He starts to sob, putting his hands to his face to quiet himself and wipe at his tears, as he says, "Ugh... Dammit... I miss h..." The last panel shows Vash leaning over into his hands, still crying, and in the back, the door swings wide open with a bam as Wolfwood walks through with the punisher swung behind him. He shouts, "SPIKEY! You in here?!"
The sixth page starts with Wolfwood confused, looking at Vash and Vash looks back, just as confused, with tears in his eyes and snot out of his nose. Wolfwood starts saying, "Ah? You..." No longer in panels, at the bottom of the page, Wolfwood takes the Punisher off of himself and starts to walk towards Vash, continuing with slight concern, "What's wrong with you? Did something happen?" Vash, hurriedly begins to wipe at his tears, denying immediately, "No! No, I'm fine! Nothing happened!"
The seventh page, Vash points towards the table, with a hand still wiping at his tears and he smiles as he says, "I uh got you food. On the table." Wolfwood looks towards to the table and responds, "Oh. I was getting hungry, thanks." He turns his head back to Vash immediately after with an uncertain expression, knowing the other wasn't responding to his concern, and says, "But, I know you're an idiot with this stuff, so I'm reminding you again. Don't brush it off if it's an issue, alright?"
The eight page, Vash's tears have dried and he looks to Wolfwood with a soft smile and responds, "Yeah. It's okay though..." A panel at the center shows a side view of Vash approaching Wolfwood. At the bottom of the page, with no panel, is a close up shot of Vash's hand, holding onto the edge of Wolfwood's jacket sleeve, as he says, "Because you're here now. Wolfwood."
The final page is a back shot of both of them standing next to each other, Wolfwood's head tilted slightly to the left, not fully believing Vash as he says, "That doesn't answer anything, Spikey." Vash responds, "There's no need to talk about it! You should enjoy your food. Let's have a drink too?" Wolfwood responds, "Tsk, tsk. Fine, yeah. I could use one." END ID]
#vashwood#vash the stampede#nicholas d wolfwood#trigun#trigun maximum#but onto this comic... i think and talk a LOT about vash's loneliness bc trigun is just. kind of central on that for a good while! esp in#the original manga he was alone for a good portion of it and he tends to keep others away like how he ran away from meryl and milly when#they tried to tag along. and he was kind of bothered when he realized ww was following him around Too. at the core even though he loves#humans and he loves deeply the people he does know -- he isnt really much of a people person and i think thats been the case since he was#young considering his initial doubts towards humans... with the exception of kids bc kids dont give him moral conflicts. so suddenly#here comes wolfwood!!! his guide. someone TRULY affixed to him until he has to get to knives. someone who isnt budging and someone whos#really good at following him around and even seems like he goes like 5 steps ahead to make sure vash doesnt run on him#in one way its - i don't want you to follow me bc i don't want to burden you and i don't want you to kill the people i want to save.#in another way its - i like this companionship. i like waking up to you and i like ending the way with you. i like talking to someone who#knows my world. i like being in your space and sometimes i enjoy talking about our day#theyre just living together. like. roadtrip buddies or theyre also under the same roof because they're going everywhere together.#trimax they mainly spend their mornings together and if they had personal business attend the other person would usually know and itd only#be during the midday. anyway bc of this kind of companionship i figure that vash eventually grew accustom to it and he really. cant go back#to the kind of loneliness from before. it's harder to imagine and it'd be harder to withstand. esp after 2 years with lina and her grandma.#ruporas art
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suddencolds Ā· 3 months ago
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.~
#not a vent just a journal entry (feel free to scroll past; there is no snz here and this is also not that interesting)#realizing now that i never thought of myself as#someone whose absence would register to others in any other way than just neutral/detached recognition?#phrasing this really badly and i am truly going to delete this later bc it is embarrassing LOL#i think when i was young and posting all this fic into questionable places (the f*rum) i was like#(@ an unfinished work of mine) no way anyone could be bothered by these cliffhangers šŸ‘ they can just imagine the ending#even though i would frequently be bothered by other people's cliffhangers. that exact same principle just wouldn't apply to me in my head#and when i did not respond to people i was like.. i'm sure i wasn't really an important part of their lives so they won't mind it#if i stepped away?#i never really entertained the concept of people missing me or looking forward to my responses šŸ˜­ i never thought of myself as someone worth#missing... so when i disappeared it was always with little to no sense of guilt. i think even now i struggle with#seeing myself as someone that inhabits like a tangible enough space in other people's lives that my absence would be felt#(and i don't mean that in a morbid way. and i do recognize that it's quite hypocritical)#on the flipside of things i frequently miss people and look forward to their responses. and sometimes i wonder like#do they all know? do they all know that i miss them because they somehow understand this aspect of human nature better than i do?#or are they in the dark like i am? are these things assumed or are they only known when they are said... šŸ˜­#i am a little bit of a coward so i am not saying anything (also because can you even say this kind of thing to someone??#i would probably die of embarrassment) but#how strange it is to have someone suddenly inhabit a space in your life that is substantial enough that#when they're gone you feel that space open up and you miss them#the few times in my life people have conveyed that sentiment to me i remember feeling puzzled that my presence could have that kind of#weight to them. i think my problem is that i purposefully do not read between the lines if the conclusion is something favorable towards me#because i don't want to bank on something good that might or might not be true šŸ˜­ anyways this is way too long already. if you read this#then good morning or goodnight
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foccaccia Ā· 7 months ago
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does anyone have recommendations for fictional media that has like. actual lesbians in it. not like supergirl Two White Skinny Girls, One Blonde and One Brunette Kiss media, or "its implied lesbianism!!!" but just regular fucking lesbians
#i say lesbians but i guess i mean sapphic#im just like. tired of gnawing#and of men also. sorry men in my life i love you but on god if i have to pretend one more man is butch just to get#content that isnt m/m or m/f im going to turn into a horse and run into the wilderness until im saved from the glue factory by a plucky#young woman except instead of letting her have her formative summer where she trains me and bonds w me and wins a competition w me#im going to commit horse suicide in front of her & change her life forever. just because im so tired of bland CW-marketable women kissing &#digging for scraps in a refuse bin while brushing aside 7002993829292929939292929399394 gay and het romances#m text#i will also take nonfictional lesbians if its like a story#not to be whiny on main but one of the hardest hurdles i had to jump wasnt realizing i was a lesbian. i came out to myself and to friends a#lesbian multiple times. but i would always walk it back when a friend would express doubt or a male friend would ask me out#bc i dont and especially then didnt know very many lesbians in person. and so i had to turn to examples#and all i fucking had were fictional women who liked men. or fictional lesbians who were so cleaned and sanitized and prettified#(you all know what i mean right. the 2 skinny white girls one blonde one brunette. im not crazy right)#and i would be like. i dont feel things when i look at these fictional lesbians so i guess i belong back here#(this is also bc my gender ended up being fuckier than i realized but shhhhh)#I WAS GOING SOMEWHERE WITH THESE TAGS but theyre too long and im lost.#anyway the point is if people werent so fucking weird abt fictional or onscreen lesbians maybe thered be a lot more people comfortable bein#out as lesbian#like sorry but this awful ouroboros of 'all lesbians onscreen have to be cute and sanitized' meaning that people write and believe wlw has#to be cute and pure and sanitized (OR a 'badge of honor' bc good for u u doodled two women together or had it as a background in ur fic)#meaning that therefore all portrayals of lesbianism continue to be like this. is just#and im also gonna be honest theres probably a lot of good sapphic media im just in the wrong circles to have stumbled into lol. so#yknow. personal viewer bias here#but i still like swing wildly between overly brandishing my dykeness as a badge to feel like im proving im lesbian#and like. backing up under a blanket bc i dont wanna be weird or annoying or freak people out#but if people just Saw Normal Ass Lesbians. aough.#im going to watch revolutionary girl utena one of these days even if i struggled w the writing style the first few episodes#I JUST WANNA SEE AN OLD BUTCH ONSCREEN GET SOME PUSSY.#like it also doesnt help im mostly femme4butch so seeing 2 femmes on screen is like. okay cool so what. but only femmes are 'marketable'
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vampyroteuthid Ā· 5 months ago
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made a post but it wound up being excessive so it's under here
made the mistake against my better judgment of mentioning to my sister in law that i was trying to get a hysterectomy and she literally gasped and was like "what?! that's such a huge and permanent surgery with so many side effects it makes you go into menopause?!" like first of all it is not usually a very crazy surgery at all anymore and second of all if you only remove the uterus it rarely causes menopause. but even if it did ok so then i take hrt for some decades. which while not ideal is barely different than taking birth control for decades which is what i would be doing otherwise. then she asked if this was "the first of multiple life altering surgical interventions to [my] body" and i was like idk :) because she was so weird about it even though i am certain that i will be doing something life altering and permanent to these fucking g cups as soon as i feel like i'm in a situation where i can do so. and this is all not very lgbtq ally of her but quite frankly even if there was no gender component to it and i was a confidently cisgendered woman i would still deserve to have the ability to make such life altering and permanent decisions and not get fucking interrogated and talked down to about doing as an adult something i've been sure about for my entire life (or of course even if it hadn't been that long), which is a very obvious concept to me but clearly not to some people. this woman teaches feminism at the university level btw and has previously been involved in queer student organizations and advocacy. somehow. i give it a 78% chance she will bring it up again in front of my brother
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caramelmochacrow Ā· 10 months ago
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IM CRYING IM BAWLING IM SOBBING (episode 12 of love live school idol punched me in the gut)
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ronin-deactivated19851026 Ā· 1 year ago
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actual photo of me, mirrored:
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but fr tho my cervical issues are so fucking annoying. they got better after i started wearing braces and fixing my overbite. at least, the nerve area around my ear doesn't get pinched in a way my whole arm gets numb anymore, that's a major progress finally i can play vidya whole day again but other than that, i can literally show this screenshot when asked "how are you doing?" in regards to my neck pain. literally shows every area on my face that is numb, inflamed, tickles, itches, contracts, and hurts all the time. it's so annoying and what i hate about it the most is how it affects my hearing and probably also contributes to the brain fog in one way or another idk high chances that my arteries got pinched too and my brain literally doesn't get enough oxygen, but i still haven't done tests to confirm that
on top of that, a dumb habit that i should cease for good is sitting on my legs up to 10 hours a day because it got to the point that i fucked them up so bad, i ended up constantly pulling them in my sleep and waking up from the pain worse than when i had my bone tissue drilled through with minimal anesthesia. like holy shit i used to be scared of dentists because i considered pain from getting my teeth drilled through the worst, but nope it's not, it's so fucking far from what a stiff body with a lifestyle like mine can go through
on the brighter side, daily yoga seems to be cancelling two decades of my dumbfuckery pretty quickly. more so, i manage to reach spots that i couldn't reach ever in my life before. this actually really excites me, because it shatters the concept of being "too late" for changing things that one was supposed to take care of earlier. i also have been approaching my whole life from a different, more philosophical perspective for last few years and every hardship i go through seems like a challenge these days.
i don't think i'm truly suffering like i used to anymore, at all. i may seem like i do, every time i rant or vent, because on a surface level it looks the same as before. but to me, a really thick, miserable layer of suffering that used to make me feel like i'm poisoned, imprisoned in this existence, locked in my body, forsaken and ultimately defeated, for long years and decades, is gone. venting doesn't make me feel worse, quite the other way round; it makes me feel like i'm embracing hardships, processing them, rather than avoiding, denying, and running away from them. funny how therapy and psychiatry was taking healing away from me this whole time, heh. instead i found it in places that psych-simps told will ruin me. but that's a story for some other day i guess.
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kraptos Ā· 2 years ago
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Another ask but also silly in mind for AOS; will he cry in absolute joy to Kratos if Atreus ever called him dad? :')
hi friend!!! always a treat to see u in my ask box :>
this is a really great question, and honestly the more i think about it the more complicated i realize it is. i think he would be happy about it!! it would definitely come as a surprise to him. he knows that he has come after faye and in a way is filling in her role as the doting/softer parent. that being said he really struggles to see himself as one. he doesn't want to cross kratos's boundaries with his son/as a father, and arguably more importantly, he doesn't want little atreus to feel like he's trying to take faye's place esp when he knows that is what he's afraid of. it's all out of respect for kratos, the kiddo, and ultimately faye, as well.
on the other hand, he can't help but see atreus as the little boy he wanted when he and kratos were young. and i'm sure he sees the whole situation as kind of a fucked up way for the gods to bless them and give them what they always wanted. so he definitely sees atreus as his own (or at least will grow into seeing him that way) but still struggles with the idea of being his "dad" (if that makes any sense??)
but REGARDLESS! i digress. he would be very surprised and pretty happy for atreus to see him as a parent, but i think if it ever happened where he was actually referred to as Dad directly, he would pull him aside for a heart to heart. just to make sure he isn't feeling pressured from any of the adults in the house that he Has To see him/accecpt him as a parental figure, etc.
hopefully all of that makes sense, i feel like i just word vomited at u, i am so sorry. i just love talkin abt AOS sm LOL
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madwickedawesome Ā· 2 years ago
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ok yeah sorry not to sound like a complete dick but jsyk i am not on tumblr to parent u or make u behave šŸ˜­ this isnt directed to anyone Specifically but to the actual like 12-13 year olds who follow me i am an internet stranger. my tumblr presence itself is not enough to know me as a person . do not say u trust me with ur life or that u look up to me bc i cannot stress enough how little so many of u know me
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meejijis Ā· 1 month ago
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ppl who goes against their "dni" and break their own rules by either invading other people's spaces or hate stalking the ppl they hate (which the said person they hate is literally everything they described in their dni list) will always make me so annoyed
#delete later#i stopped doing dnis and byf cuz i realized its fucking useless AND extremely stupid tbh. like i also find it extremely childish too#its like putting up a sign at a restaurant and going ā€œpeople who supports and enjoys pineapple on pizza are not allowed here go awayā€#like i just now realized how stupid this whole thing is. it also feels like segregation ngl#also not all dnis and byfs work like a charm 100% of the time either cuz even if you list the triggers and things you hate ppl out there ar#going to be terrible about it and use your horrors against you and harm you. and its pretty fucked#but yeah on another note: ppl esp the young gen needs to start learning how to avoid something they hate and never look back on it ever#again. like i promise you if you focus on something you like you wont have to be fighting useless pointless battles cuz theyre a waste of#TIME AND ENERGY. please learn how to separate fiction and reality. not only that even if you try really hard on wanting to make things you#hate disappear as well as its supporters well im sorry to break it to you but things you hate will ALWAYS exist. shocking i know#just like how many ppl hate pinapple on pizza there also exists others that loves that kind of pizza alot and its never going away any time#soon. that applies for every other shit we hate just like how i hate the fucking great gatsby lol but it still continues to live on and#strive in highschool eng classes cuz again ppl likes that book lol and also it exists for ppl needing to learn higher reading comprehension#and levels and all that jazz and what not.#but yeah some ppl really needs to stop breaking their own boundaries and consuming things they hate. its really unhealthy#also stop hate stalking ppl you hate too. seriously. get a better hobby.
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luckyladylily Ā· 5 months ago
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So a few months ago there was the discourse about would you rather meet a man or a bear in the woods. I didn't want to touch it while the discourse was hot and everyone dug in hard because those are not good conditions for nuance, but I waited until today, June 1st, for a specific reason.
I'm not going to take a position in the bear vs man debate because I don't think it matters. What is really being asked here is how afraid are you of men? Specifically, unexpected men who are, perhaps, strange.
People have a lot of very real fear of men that comes from a lot of very real places. Back when I was first transitioning in 2015 and 2016, I decided to start presenting as a woman in public even though I did not pass in the slightest.
I live in a red state. I knew other trans women who had been attacked by men, raped by men. I knew I was taking a risk by putting myself out there. I was the only visibly trans person in the area of campus I frequented, and people made sure I never forgot that. Most were harmless enough and the worst I got from them was curious stares. Others were more aggressive, even the occasional threat. I had to avoid public bathrooms, of course, and always be aware of my surroundings.
I know how frightening it is to be alone at night while a pair of men are following behind you and not knowing if they are just going in the same direction or if they want to start something - made all the worse for the constant low level threat I had been living under for over a year by just being visibly trans in a place where many are openly hostile to queer people. You have to remember, this was at the height of the first wave of bathroom law discussions, a lot of people were very angry about trans women in particular. My daily life was terrifying at times. I was never the subject of direct violence, but I knew trans women who had been.
I want you to keep all that in mind.
So man or bear is really the question "how afraid of men are you?", and the question that logically follows is "What if there was a strange man at night in a deserted parking lot?" or "What if you were alone in an elevator with a man?" or "What if you met a strange man in the woman's bathroom?"
My state recently passed an anti trans bathroom bill. The rhetoric they used was about protecting women and children from "strange men", aka trans women.
Conservatives hijack fear for their bigoted agenda.
When I first started presenting as a woman the campus apartment complex was designed for young families. The buildings were in a large square with playgrounds in the center, and there were often children playing. I quickly noticed that when I took my daughter out to play, often several children would immediately stop what they were doing and run back inside. It didn't take me long to confirm that the parents were so afraid of "the strange man who wears skirts" that their children were under strict instructions to literally run away as soon as they saw me.
"How afraid are you of a strange man being near your children?"
I mentioned above that I had to avoid public bathrooms. This was not because of men. It was because of women who were so afraid of random men that they might get violent or call someone like the police to be violent for them if I ever accidentally presented myself in a way that could be interpreted as threatening, when my mere presence could be seen as a threat. If I was in the library studying and I realized that it was just me and one other woman I would get up and leave because she might decide that stranger danger was happening.
Your fear is real. Your fear might even come from lived experiences. None of that prevents the fact that your fear can be violent. Women's fear of men is one of the driving forces of transmisogyny because it is so easy to hijack. And it isn't just trans women. Other trans people experience this, and other queer people too. Racial minorities, homeless people, neurodivergent people, disabled people.
When you uncritically engage with questions like man or bear, when you uncritically validate a culture of reactive fear, you are paving the way for conservatives and bigots to push their agenda. And that is why I waited until pride month. You cannot engage and contribute to the culture of reactive fear without contributing to queerphobia of all varieties. The sensationalist culture of reactive fear is a serious queer issue, and everyone just forgot that for a week as they argued over man or bear. I'm not saying that "man" is the right answer. I am saying that uncritically engaging with such obvious click bait trading on reactive fear is a problem. Everyone fucked up.
It is not a moral failing to experience fear, but it is a moral responsibility to keep a handle on that fear and know how it might harm others.
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