#this image is so funny to me. he's so joyous?

[picusviridis]

this kid walks up to you wdyd

[aceofshitposts]

did a little writing challenge with @yasmindifference! we randomly generated a prompt and both wrote for about an hour for it :3c prompt was: Have one character brushing the hair away from the face of the other. and here's mine! make sure to also check out yas' fic <3 -

Generally, Tim stays out of the limelight. Disastrous PR debacles was more Bruce’s thing, a man known for swinging between partners and parties like a squirrel caught in a hurricane.

Not that Tim didn’t make his appearances but each was carefully crafted to affect a certain image. Timothy Drake-Wayne was known to be kind but aloof, just funny enough to get people to let down their guard. Charming and put together.

Scandals were not in Tim’s public itinerary. He had enough work to deal with in his day and night job both.

The first bouquet of flowers to show up goes relatively unmentioned. There are a few looks from others in the office but it’s nothing particularly alarming. Flowers have shown up before, from Bernard once or twice and a few separate attempts at wooing him from others. Tim takes the card from the vase, no name left and a simple note that says have a nice day, and regifts the flowers to the lobby reception.

It’s when Tim is surrounded by several bouquets, one from each day of the week, that he starts to get annoyed. Someone has to be playing a joke on him or else he’s got a very persistent stalker– which wouldn't be the first time and leads Tim to wondering if something new has crawled up Ra’s’ ass recently.

He starts tracking the orders. There’s three bouquets from a florist down in the bowery, one from the diamond district and another from a larger florist by Gotham General. Each order was paid for with cash, naturally.

Calling the shops proves fruitless with the various shopkeepers giggling about customer confidentiality. Tim is able to identify some of the flowers, however, discovering that the all white and green bouquet from Wednesday contained coriander, white gardenia, white camella and white clover.

Then the press catches wind of Tim’s anonymous flower gifts. It’s not quite headline worthy, thankfully, but the gossip mill is in full swing with questions about who this mystery admirer could be.

Which also means the other bats catch wind of it.

“Shut up,” Tim mutters dejectedly at Dick’s joyous cackling. “This could be a serious problem.”

Nobody is taking Tim’s concerns seriously. It doesn’t help that Tim has ruled out this being some ploy from Ra’s, if only because in response to this ridiculous situation Ra’s had sent a bouquet. Directly to Tim’s living room with a not so anonymous card.

“What are you laughing about now? Please tell me B fell off a fire escape or something.”

Great, just what Tim needed; to have Jason come in and start laughing at his public persona’s disaster of a love life also. Dick wastes no time in launching into the whole thing, embellishing the story more than Tim would like honestly, while Jason leans against the Bat-Computer console.

Tim makes the mistake of making eye contact with Jason, earning himself a wide grin from the older robin.

It takes Tim a moment to remember Dick is actively making fun of him. That’s why Jason is smiling at him. It’s a funny story, Tim might even be amused if he wasn’t at the centre of it.

“I’m going on patrol,” he mutters to no-one in particular.

Tim is expecting it when he exits the office elevator on Monday. As he walked through the building there had been several not so subtle looks and not so quiet whispers that alluded to his ordeal not being over.

Despite this, he was not quite prepared for what was waiting for him outside his office.

He’d recognize the worn leather jacket and broad shoulders anywhere.

The office is suspiciously quiet as Tim walks through, eyes following him like the hungry vultures they were. Tim wonders the ethics of hoping for an Arkham breakout just to keep this off the cover of the Gotham Gazette.

Jason grins at him when Tim comes to stand in front of him, not unlike the other night in the cave.

“A little birdy said you were lookin’ for me,” Jason mock whispers, leaning towards Tim.

“How did you get in the building?” Tim asks cooly, unlocking the door to his private office. If this was a joke Tim was going to personally bug all of Jason and Dick’s equipment for the foreseeable future.

“Oh, y’know, my boyish charm.” Jason shrugs and Tim notices the bouquet of bright red roses held in Jason’s hand.

Tim might not be an expert on flower meanings.

But that one is pretty clear.

Jason reaches out with his free hand to brush some hair out of Tim’s face.Someone in the office shrieks, reminding Tim that they were not only currently in public but also in his workplace and Jason looks like he’s about to laugh even though his face is also rapidly turning red. Tim decides he’ll deal with the PR crisis later and shoves Jason into his office and shuts the door and blinds behind him.

[ducktracy]

Hey, I just wanted to say that The Bear That Wasn't was one of my favorite picture books as a child, but since I wasn't aware of Tashlin back then I only learned it was his work after seeing you tweet it a while back. Revisiting it, it's still joyous and funny, but there's a deep poignant truth in the story that's very relevant to both myself and the world at large. And while Tashlin had an amazing career, The Bear That Wasn't is the work of his that I cherish the most.

I'M SOOOO HONORED AND TOUCHED BY THIS ASK!!!! thank you for sending this in!! i'm so happy to hear you have such a special connection with this book!! i really wish i had known about it sooner--one of my many artistic aspirations as a kid was to be a children's book illustrator, and that's a book that i know i would have been utterly fixated by and used as inspiration had i had it. so this makes me so happy to hear!!

and YES, I AAAABSOLUTELY recommend everyone reading this ask to read the book! you can! right here! for free! treat your eyeballs not only to these gorgeous Tashlin drawings, but a very touching and as you said POIGNANT story!! it's so fantastic. Frank Tashlin is seriously one of my biggest and most omnipresent inspirations, i swear he just about influences every facet of my life that i could possibly regard with any sort of artistic influence. he was an amazing cartoonist, an amazing cartoon director, an amazing live action director and now an amazing author!!

another book i'd love to get my hands on is another one of his, The Possum That Didn't. images are a bit hard to come by online, but the illustrations still have that same charm and it's just!! UGH! the level of talent on display!!

while images may be hard to find, there is an animated version! i'll have to give it a watch since i haven't seen it myself! i also need to reacquaint myself with Chuck Jones' adaptation of The Bear That Wasn't. i'm glad that Tash's books were regarded enough to get animated adaptations... and by his old coworkers, no less! though if memory serves, i don't think Tash was very impressed with Jones' take lol

i wasn't very happy with how it was coming out so i (hopefully momentarily) abandoned it, but a few months ago i tried doing some screenshot redraws mimicking the style of Tashlin's book illustrations in hope of creating a mock-up storybook adaptation of Nasty Quacks as a sort of "prep project" for another project i do have in mind and do want to commit to.. maybe someday i'll pick it back up. but, needless to say, his books are as big of an influence on me as his cartoons and his movies and his comics!! i'm so glad to hear this

[chemicalpink]

Jungkook's Updated Chart [2023]

Alright, alright, by now you’ve heard it, I’ve heard it, we’ve all heard it and it has caused a joyous moment for the bts astrologers. 

We’ve got in our hands Jungkook’s birth time (and while I really am not anticipating having to come back to the whole balance of opinions and general consensus of is it AM or PM) I am here to offer my two cents as a way to come back on here after a few too messy months. 

Let us start with the (probably) most pressing matter: the rising sign. While the general consensus before his live was a Libra Rising, we now find ourselves between a Capricorn or a Leo rising, I believe it is important to look at the Moon both of them carry. While Capricorn carries a Virgo Moon, Leo carries a Leo Moon, which was already the Moon sign that had been adapted to him before any type of confirmation. 

And while by general consensus Jungkook had been consensed as a day chart (which technically whether AM or PM he’s still a day inclined sect)  I’m inclined to give a PM chart a chance. Hear me out. 

Going by astrological knowledge, Jungkook’s chart continues to be a shady one even after we’ve been given his birth time in a general context. Say, a pretty easy way to tell if someone is an AM or PM chart, is by looking at the way that either the Sun or Moon resonates the most with the way one person is HOWEVER we love to complicate things in here so we’ll take the high road of looking at the malefic planets and their interactions within the chart according to the Hellenistic technique of sects. Say, either Mars or Saturn will play a major part of one’s life accordingly, and same applies to the benefits Jupiter and Venus. 

So let’s draw it out. 

Scorpio Mars in 4th or in 10th

Aries Saturn in 9th or in 3rd

Libra Venus in 3rd or in 9th

Aquarius Jupiter. In 7th or in 1st

A malefic Mars would be looking at someone that is filled with rage and aggression, while a Malefic Saturn is usually seen in people with Mercury-ruled Suns, such as Jungkook’s Virgo. Furthermore, Saturn never gives a malefic status when in houses 2,5,9,12. Now, I know we would love for the empowerment that a Scorpio Mars Jungkook would mean, however if you’ve been here for a while/ have read a bit on Scorpio Mars in general vs Scorpio Mars on Jungkook, you know already that it has been quite a wild ride between the empowered overly sexy go big or go home Scorpio Mars image and Jungkook’s very obvious downplay of said traits and leaning more towards a gentle, awkwardly flirty position; an Aries Saturn in his 3rd House would 100% explain the juxtaposition of it as Saturn would downplay his Scorpio Mars. 

Also just as a personal note, I find it funny (see: funny as an expression, it curious at most) that a usual way to contradict a malefic Saturn in your chart is to have/care for 3 dogs (ahem Bam, Song and Paeng) then again, just a personal side note. 

Either way, if Jungkook were to have a malefic Saturn, it would make him a PM chart/ night sect. 

So onto the benefics, a Libra Venus benefic is usually seen with either a Capricorn or an Aquarius Rising however, if Jungkook were to have an Aquarius Jupiter benefic, it would solidify the tendency towards his expansion as an artist, along with the way that it would be a great placement for his success. 

Messy, I told you. If we were to look at it in a simpler way, just by the semantics of “Which placements seem more impactful on Jungkook?” it would look like this:

An Aries Saturn is a sign of a generation’s leader, a little too competitive person that other peers find it hard to keep up with. 

A Scorpio Mars is someone that does things their own way not giving a second thought to disappoint, yet very reality-driven when it comes to other people. 

A Libra Venus benefits, amongst others, look a lot like obtaining luxuries in life and economic progress. 

An Aquarius Jupiter benefits include rising academically and leading a very intellectually-driven life while receiving support from their superiors. 

Without much thought into it, choosing one every two affirmations (say: 1 vs 2 and 3 vs 4) if you were to say hey, I think Jungkook’s Aries Saturn and Libra Venus sound a lot like what we’ve been able to see of him. We would be guessing a PM chart/ Night sect. 

If you were to say Nah, I think his Scorpio Mars and Aquarius Jupiter are pretty evident. We would be guessing an AM chart/Light sect. 

Now, NOW I KNOWWWW I’ve seen the discourse. 

Oh Jungkook being a Leo rising and Leo Moon makes so much sense. But does it? 

Sure, Leo risings are absolutely magnetic, mesmerising even; they are very aware of the image they want to project. There’s a lot of an “on-stage” vibe 24/7 with them (I’m looking at your karaoke at home, JK) They make rash decisions and are pretty well known for their lifelong temper tantrums as well as their idealism that tends to keep them out of trouble. It would 100% fit the marketing fairy image of his as Leo risings are great promoters. However (and not really counting the interactions a Leo rising would have with a Virgo Sun in the chart) Leo risings tend to live on a separate reality, almost fictional, and are driven by drama, pretty much blind to facts around them. I’ll give it to the allegations though, Leo risings are kids at heart, always fun loving and with wonder-filled eyes. 

Leo Moon (yay double whammies) this is where it gets interesting. A normally reserved but not uncomfortable with the spotlight when needed to be, sounds a lot like Jungkook. There’s this thing with Leo Moons where they feel a need to control people around them, even if not really out there. It is a very creative placement that gives people a need to entertain, if only a bit lazy about it. Sulking is a big thing for them because they need a lot of love and care from the people surrounding them.  

And if Jungkook truly is like that (because then again, we are only analysing a mere fraction of a true multifaceted human being while staying in our fan lane) we love to see it! However, it seems to me like it is more- of a description of Jungkook of BTS and his image when truly on stage. 

 Now, up for consideration:

Virgo Moons, the masters of pouting and nagging to get their way, as an underlying way to ask for care and attention from those around them. Prone to stress and pressure, most Virgo Moons are quick to rank themselves  as “underachievers” in mostly academic terms , if only because they usually find other non academic/non traditional subjects to overachieve on. Very jealous of their own space in which they must develop themselves. Often shy when around new people and pretty chaotic with people they’re comfortable with. Self-critical but with a lot of bodily control that could make them excel in art forms that require spatial cognition such as dancing and tend to have plenty of “little hobbies” or stuff they try out and excel at. 

Capricorn Rising (I know I know, sounds so out of it bc how could we even consider an Earth Sun and Earth Rising well-) perfectionists at their finest. A phrase that is always on the tip of their tongues “I will work harder” If you’re looking for someone that just naturally looks competent at whatever they do, it’s them. Often had to take on more responsibility than others at a younger age. Hard-working and driven personality thats makes it look easy to obtain their success levels. Epitomes of success stories in their own fields. Capricorn Risings are often quite mature and grown up when young due to having to grow up quickly and then loosen up and live a rather unique and free spirited way. 

Personal note on that one, Capricorn Risings are often referred to as “karma tokens” if you were to cross them for whatever reason, be sure that it’ll get back to you. 

Also, Capricorn Rising with Virgo Suns are often times delicate in terms of their skin and digestive system (which would make sense with Jungkook’s no gluten rule as of lately and his usual assortment of specialised personal care along with the aversion of dying his hair because of a delicate scalp) 

A Cap rising would also make so much sense in terms of his relationships with the other members. 

Capricorn Rising Virgo Suns have the best understanding with other Virgos and Capricorns (Namjoon and Taehyung) 

There’s a lot of tenderness and admiration for Pisceans (Yoongi)

Plenty of childish disagreements and bickering with Sagittarius while Sag would 100% help them come out of their shell and learn to loosen up and embrace a more childish way of living towards happiness (Seokjin)

Prone to be pretty close with Libras and Aquarians (Jimin and Hoseok) 

One way or another, the general consensus will come our way and as a BTS astrologer we shall respect the voice of the people, however I hope you enjoyed this food for thought, at the end of the day, and I shall keep repeating it, until we know for sure first hand if it is AM or PM, the only person that can and should resonate with it regardless of the exact time is the person to who the chart belongs to, which in this case is Jungkook. 

Nevertheless, I am a 15:23 advocate. If only because when looking at his chart’s universal time, being born at 3:23PM would make him a light sect with a 6:23 AM hour (which again, I find funny numerology-wise cause 2x3=6 and that’s the whole universal time of birth for him) 

[modern-inheritance]

Modern Inheritance: Shotglass (Short) (Eldest)

(Rough, not reread, quick word vomit when the idea came to me.)

Set in the extended timeline where there's a few days between Ajihad's funeral and leaving for Ellesmera. Eragon and Saphira are still grappling with the loss of Murtagh, so Brom and Arya take the duo to the Varden's traveling bar run by an old friend of the elf's. Since Arya is technically off duty, she decides to indulge a bit and order a bit of alcohol, leading to the reinstatement of a very old rule.

~~~~~

“Is this really necessary in front of Eragon and Saphira?” 

“You know the rules.” Brom chided. He gestured with a crooked finger, eyes crinkled at the edges and stern. 

Arya stifled the aggravated sigh that was rapidly building in her throat. She hadn’t had to suffer this song and dance for a long while, even by her standards. Glen and Fäolin hadn’t particularly cared, they trusted her judgment and knew she had a firm grasp on her limitations. 

But Brom? She honestly thought he was just showing off at this point.

Though, whether it was showing off her deference to him– a deference not of fear or respect for the chain of command but built off their years of work together and her true respect of his opinion, mind you– in front of Eragon and Saphira, or him showing off the tricks and casual abilities of his wild child former ward, Arya hadn’t decided yet. 

Still. He had asked nicely. Even if she wasn’t on duty, she’d do as he asked. Ridiculous as it was. 

The elf crouched slightly and allowed the old Rider to delicately place the shotglass atop her head. 

Eragon watched, dark eyes filled with their usual curiosity. Flickers of thought passed through the air, images, sights, sounds, before he perked up with a cracked grin that split his face like joyous lightning. 

“Drunk elf detector.” He giggled to himself and spun around on the squeaky stool Coop had cleaned off just for him. From outside, her bulk too much for the bar just barely holding together at the seams, the raking cough of draconic chuckling rattled the dusty windows panes. Saphira’s snout peeked in through the doorway, taking in the sight with her own eyes before another ruk-ruk chorus filled her throat. 

Brom stepped back to check his handiwork. “And an effective one at that. The second that glass falls, she's cut off for the night.”

“You think you’re so funny, don’t you?” Arya mumbled, slipping into her usual seat. The shotglass balanced on her head didn't wobble in the slightest. Coop already had her usual waiting, the former Combat Engineer having disappeared off to the back to prepare for the night’s usual rabble. “You realize you’re going dry tonight?”

A sour expression colored Brom’s face. “Don’t remind me, girl.”

Gentle, a tug pulled at the thread she left open in her mental defenses. Arya allowed her former mentor in, taking a sip of her drink as Eragon began chattering about the tavern in his hometown. 

‘It’s worth it.’ The old man rumbled in her mind, soft and affectionate in a way she so rarely heard from him. He couldn’t hide it here, not completely. She could almost read him like a book after so long, and he had stopped trying to keep her from his true feelings when they spoke this way. ‘Worth it to see him smile again.’

‘I’ll drink to that, old man.’

[iris-writesx]

i found myself running home to your sweet nothings | gentlebeard

read it here or read it on ao3 <3

i wrote this entire thing in basically two hours when i was supposed to be sleeping… oops

there’s just something about them being all fluffy and domestic that actually drives me crazy omfg what i would give

title is from “sweet nothing” by taylor swift x

1.9k words — fluff, mild hurt-comfort, the intimacy of peeling your lover an orange

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

Stede didn’t like being bedridden. He felt at his best when he was up on deck with his crew, laughing and helping out and just — just being involved. He loved being Captain; he put in love where his crew was concerned, really really cared for them all. They were his family, really — his sea family, and he loved it. Stede put his all into the crew, and over the past few weeks they hadn’t really stopped; from the impromptu birthday party for Frenchie — who hadn’t actually known his birthday, so the crew had picked one at random — to replenishing the stocks, to the last few raids, and after all that they had ended up getting caught in a storm once they were back out in open waters.

So, he was feeling a little burnt out, if he was being completely honest. Not sick, just… tired.

It wasn’t helping that he had been feeling anxious for some time, a gnawing fearful buzz at the back of his mind, constantly, even when nothing was actually wrong.

Ed had noticed it — of course he had, his Ed was so perceptive. But, Stede supposed that it was a bit apparent when he had broken down in frustrated tears when he couldn’t find one of his cufflinks that morning. He had been so embarrassed, the image of his father in his mind scolding him for making a scene, for being childish. He had almost expected the same reprimand to come from Ed, for him to grow fed up or disgusted or, god forbid, found it funny.

But of course he hadn’t. It was Ed.

He had helped Stede undress, wiped his tears until he had calmed, and then coaxed Stede back beneath the covers of his bed with the promise of breakfast, and left their quarters.

Which is where Stede found himself, watching out of his bedside window as he awaited Ed’s return.

It really wasn’t a big deal. Everybody grew tired, they were pirates of course they did, but Stede trusted Ed — trusted him with his life — so he trusted his opinion, and was obedient enough to it to stay beneath the covers as he waited.

And he hadn’t actually been looking forward to the day, when he had lifted himself out of bed that morning and found that his head felt too-heavy, and his chest ached, and he felt like he might snap — which, he supposed he did over the blasted cufflinks.

His tears had long since stopped falling, and he did not want to cry again after Ed had spent so much time delicately wiping his tears and whispering sweet nothings to him, but his waterline burned at the thought of his behaviour that morning. If it had been anybody else, Stede would have forced himself to get on with the day, wouldn’t have let the tears fall, but it had been Ed.

Ed had a knack at breaking down his defences, crumbling them in his hands like one could crumble chalk.

“Stede, love, check this shit out,” his eyes had lifted to watch Ed knock the door open with his boot and stepped into the room, a tray in one hand and a mug in the other, and after he had bumped the door shut again with his hip, he made his way over to the bed with what he was carrying. “Nice fuckin’ breakfast today, Roach even had oranges! I know you love those,” the tray was settled on the little table he had by his bedside, and Stede leaned up enough to see the contents of his breakfast; toast, a bowl of oats with what looked like honey drizzled over the top, an orange, and a handful of nuts. “A breakfast fit for a King- or, s’pose, fit for a Captain.”

Stede looked back up at Ed, and the joyous expression on his face was enough for Stede to smile back. His happiness was just so contagious. Ed’s anger could brew storms, could swallow ships up whole into the depths below — he had seen it first hand on many occasions — but his happiness? It was unmatched. It made the air around him seem lighter, made life seem better.

It made everything that they had been through to get to that point worth it.

“You didn’t have to do all of that,” Stede spoke softly as Ed perched on the bed beside his legs, a hand falling atop the covers to stroke Stede’s thigh through the fabric. “It’s too lovely, darling.”

“Pssh, nonsense. I’m just serving my Captain,” Ed wriggled his eyebrows and coaxed a laugh from Stede. “Now c’mon, eat your oats, I’ll get started on cracking this fucker open.” He passed over the bowl of oats before he took the orange into his hands, and pierced the skin at the top with his thumb as Stede spooned the first mouthful of his breakfast between his lips.

“I thought Roach was using those to make a cake.” He mumbled around the food in his mouth as he gestured to the orange. Stede hadn’t felt hungry at all, but the oats settled nicely in his stomach, and he realised that Ed was probably better at taking care of him than himself.

“Oh, yeah he is,” Ed nodded, started dropping little pieces of orange peel onto the tray. “Had to sneak it out of the kitchen in my shirt, Lucius tried to take one before me and he got yelled at.”

“Ed!” Stede scolded, nudged his hip with his foot underneath the covers.

Ed looked amused more than anything, was smiling all hugely when he looked up and met his gaze. “What? Cake’s not gonna taste any fuckin’ different with one less orange, love,” he shrugged. “Would much rather make you happy with it, anyways.”

By that point the entire room smelled like oranges. It was refreshing, made him feel a little better as he took a deep inhale of the scent.

“Well, then I suppose I should say thank you,” Stede smiled at him, and leaned over to put his bowl back on the tray when he was done with it. “But if Roach asks, I had nothing to do with it. You can go down for that one yourself.”

Ed snorted a quiet laugh. “Blackbeard’s worst crime, the theft of a single orange,” he placed a slice of the fruit into Stede’s palm, before popping a second into his own mouth. “D’you think I’ll be drawn and quartered for it?”

An entertained smile was growing on Stede’s lips as he nodded his head. “Most certainly. It’s a very serious crime, I’ll have you know.”

“That makes you my accomplice,” Ed grinned as he passed him a few more slices of orange. “If I go down, you’re going down with me, mate.”

“What?” Stede asked, faux shock in his tone. “How am I your accomplice? I didn’t help you steal it.”

“No, but you’re doing a lovely job at getting rid of the evidence for me.”

Stede chewed the last orange slice, swallowed, before, “Well, it’s quite tasty evidence.”

“Face it, you’re a scoundrel just like I am.” Ed grinned at him, playfully squeezed his thigh through the covers, before he reached over to the tray and handed Stede one of the slices of toast.

Between them they finished the breakfast that Ed had so lovingly brought him, and by the time the last mouthful of his tea was swallowed, Stede really did feel better. He was still getting used to this — getting cared for out of something more than necessity. His father had only cared for him, if he could even call it that, because he was his son, and the crew only cared for him because he was their Captain. But Ed? He cared for him because he loved him. It had taken some time for Stede to get used to the idea, to push past the thought that perhaps it was all a rouse and he didn’t really care, but as Ed moved their tray aside and kissed his forehead, he really was starting to believe that he did.

“Alright, budge up, make room,” Ed kicked off his boots by the side of the bed, before he began poking at Stede’s side until he pulled a laugh from his chest. “Let me in let me in-”

“Okay okay, impatient much?” Stede laughed as he shuffled over enough for Ed to clamber into the bed beside him. It took a little bit of adjusting, but eventually they settled with Ed’s arm stretched out beneath their pillows, facing each other with Stede’s head laid upon his bicep through the pillow.

“How’re you feeling now?” Ed’s voice took on a much softer tone than he’d had at breakfast as he asked, and lifted his spare hand to stroke along his cheek lovingly. Stede keened into the touch, his eyelids fluttered, and part of him was surprised that he hadn’t simply started to purr like a kitten.

“Better,” he sighed out, felt the anxiousness of the morning leave his body with the sigh, and turned his head until he could delicately press a kiss against Ed’s wrist. For a moment he held it there, felt the drumming pulse beneath his lips, and couldn’t help but smile. “Much better. Thank you, darling.”

Ed shrugged, and leaned forwards until he could lay his own lips upon Stede’s forehead. “It’s no bother, I just want you to feel better.” He mumbled the words against Stede’s skin before he pulled away with an exaggerated puckering sound that left Stede breathing out a laugh.

“You smell like oranges.” He commented, nose crinkled fondly when he looked up the meet the warm brown depths of Ed’s eyes.

“Oh yeah?” He held an amused glint in his eye as he leaned forwards until there was no space between them at all, and pressed his mouth to Stede’s in a sweet kiss. “Well you taste like oranges.”

As if there was a point to be proven, Ed’s arm curled up from beneath the pillow and hooked behind Stede’s neck and brought him closer until he could kiss him properly, took his time with it; lips molding against his perfectly, tongue sweeping behind his teeth like he was actually trying to taste the orange slices that he had eaten, all heavy breaths and content little noises.

Stede was smiling so widely by the time he pulled away that his face almost hurt with it. “Well-” he huffed out, a little flustered — face hot with it — and he didn’t miss the little smirk across Ed’s lips at the sight. “Well, now we both taste like oranges, so really, I could just tell the authorities that you ate the evidence all by yourself, and I’d get off scott free.”

“Is that right?” Ed raised his eyebrows, and as he spoke his fingers had started stroking the back of Stede’s neck until he started to melt against the pillows. “You’d really turn me in?”

“Mm,” Stede hummed. “Imagine the reward I’d get for turning in Blackbeard.” He teased, laughed when Ed just rolled his eyes and leaned in to kiss him again.

Though, whilst he sank into the warmth of Ed’s embrace in their bed, he had no doubt that it was a much bigger reward that he had him all to himself.

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

comments would mean the world <3 requests are open!

[jgroffdaily]

Now, only a week into their Broadway run, tickets are hard to come by. The production received rave reviews from critics. In its first week of previews, the show broke the house record at the Hudson Theatre, completely selling out and grossing $1.3 million. The tune of Merrily currently hums throughout Broadway, beckoning every theater groupie to journey through Franklin Shepard's life.

Maria Friedman on the cast

“Well, if you look at the script and you look at the piece that narrows on stage, you’ll see that Steve and George wrote six entirely clear characters that don’t cross lanes. They are all fully them. In a show, you’ll have a few people that are quite like each other because they live in the same town, or they come from the same family. You look at the contrast between these people, they are deeply different, and therefore, can really spread out into their own lanes.

“So, I was able to look for very different spirits and souls. The one thing in common is they’re glorious people. The trio, led by Jonathan Groff, [who plays Franklin Shepard], who is without a doubt, the sweetest soul ever; he’s taught me lots about remembering to be joyous, and full of love, and excitable. Just a sweet, sweet man with a brilliant talent. Daniel [Radcliffe] is the same, Lindsay [Mendez, who plays Mary Flynn], the same. Katie [Rose Clarke, who plays Beth Spencer] is a mother of three, and comes in and gives her heart and soul to the piece. Krystal Joy Brown is born to play Gussie. Reg [Rogers, who plays Joe Josephson] is a tremendous actor with extraordinary charisma, and also can stretch two words. Two words can suddenly have a weight of a book. He’s an incredibly dextrous actor. And Lindsay—glorious, glorious woman who leads the company as well, with great soul. They’re just great people.

“It took six months to cast, so it takes time. You’ve got to feel the essence of the person. They all are very like their characters, in terms of the essence of the character. Lindsay’s not somebody who drinks too much, I’m not saying that. It’s just that she’s full of love and art. That’s what you’re looking for. And, very funny, and very, very smart, and very strong. That’s what Mary is, and Lindsay has all those characteristics.”

[dumbviolet]

The castle of imagination that fell apart

Its always the good moments of a relationship that haunts you at random points of time. Because after all those people who congratulate you on your breakup and those who help you feel that it was the correct decision mostly were not present when you shared the happy moments with your ex partner.

The moments where you can still remember the sound of both of you giggling at stupid stuff, when all the cringe stuff felt cute, when he folded your long pants so you don't fall coming down from stairs, when he got his own shoes for you and carried your heels so you can walk comfortably, when he always found a way to hold your hand even when everyone was looking, when he sang songs for you. So you thought it was safe to assume that he did liked you truly! Funny right?

          But at the same time as you are reminiscing those joyous intimate moments the rage starts rising. It reminds you of the desolate promises made by that person which were never fulfilled. The betrayal when you realised that the whole time those songs were about someone else really close to you. The resentment of being disrespected by the same person for some another woman weighed heavier than the significance or mere existence of those few good moments of the relationship where most of those were fake anyways.

        But that little girl that little brat of a hopeless romantic didn't had any idea about this show, she just knew that her feelings and whatever she did was real and true. The most pathetic part of this you ask? The most pathetic thing is despite of all the rage and hurt and the logistics your heart still dares to miss all those moments. Don't get me wrong. I know we hate that person. But what we miss is how special that person made us feel,how we felt like the day couldn't get any better, how we wished that we could live in that moment forever, the image that we made of that person or how we wanted that person to be. What we had imagined with that person, all the firsts we shared with that person, how we wished to grow with that person, how that person made us feel safe and loved at one time.

            So.... Even if we move on and get over anyone, as the castle of imagination that we built in that relationship continues to break apart and wither away. It still hurts a little and trickles down the cheek in the form of a tear and the hurt resurfaces as trust issues and difficulty or very low to no willingness to indulge into any of such relationships again.

        However, this doesn't means you are not allowed to love again. Eventho the hopeless romantic in you momentarily disappears due to the hurt and disappointment it doesn't means that it will never make a comeback again. And whilst it is gone you can work on making yourself more capable and rather loving yourself more and paying attention on healing yourself rather than blaming the world and wasting your energy.

Someday,

someone will come into your life and will love you the way you've always wanted. Until then be that 'someone' for yourself.

[tutuandscoot]

This is random but since there’s a few gifs going round for the anniversary.. it just made me think about one of their interviews back home after the games when a morning show host asks Tessa if it hurt when Scott picked her up and hugged her when they got their score, and Tessa’s no. 1 thought, the only only thing she says is ‘I probably hurt him I had kind of a death grip’.

Like just that unconscious reflex, the first thing out of their mouths is self critical- they never criticise the other, it’s never ‘oh he hurt me’, he may say he was worried he hurt her but her deflection is ‘oh no I was worried I was hurting you’.

One of my fave things T had ever said (I can’t remember where it’s from but she speaks it so it’s from a podcast).. in a kinda shy and.. thinking about the moments she talking about as she describes them.. ‘we’re funny, how we protect each other.. for example if he messes up I’ll say it was my fault or if I stumble out of something he’ll say ‘oh no that was me I’ll put you down in a different spot’.. it’s that they always, even for the seemingly silliest things they protect each other. They never incriminate each other for anything.

I think that’s so fascinating because they have done all this work on their partnership and the mental side of it- marriage counselling and sports psych, and therapy so they can work efficiently and respectfully together. They don’t need to protect each other in that way because they have a system that works and they know they would never hurt each other on purpose and because they watched teams around them growing up waste time arguing they said no we will never do that..

I’m not saying it’s ‘arguing’, but I looveee how tessa says it like ‘where funny, how we are’ because there is that little tiny.. just human factor, of them just instinctively taking the blame or making sure the other doesn’t feel bad or like they did something wrong.. it’s kind of reverse arguing in a way.. I just love that about them. I’m gonna have to go on a hunt and find that VO clip because it makes be feel so many things thinking about and imaging them, after 18+ years or whatever, stopping after the smallest misstep to make sure the other is ok and immediately take responsibility for it, kinda protecting each other from themselves. That’s amazing. And that they even do it in public, just naturally.

It’s such a small thing but watching some gifs of them squeezing each other so tight and people worrying about sweet little Tessa being crushed by his unbridled joy- her knowing because she was lucky enough to actually feel in him that joy on a regular basis to varying extents, that no, he did not hurt her, he would never hurt her, he couldn’t hurt her, and in fact she takes just as much responsibility for that incredible, joyous, the definition of pure happiness, squeezing so tight it’s as if they have become one, that was just as much her as him, ‘oh and btw my kiddo are you ok I may have been digging in a little hard’.

Ughhh will I ever run out of tiny, meaningless to the naked eye, incredibly moving things to write about them??

[snowflake-of-destruction]

“Surfs up. Hail Satan.”

It really wasn't as bad as Fat Gum seemed to think. The wild, joyous yell could hardly be heard over the rushing whoosh of the tidal wave sweeping through the city street--which, on second thought was probably what Gum was truly distressed about, not the wiry teenager riding the wave balanced on an uprooted street sign against all odds, crying at the sky, "Surf's up! Hail Satan!" 

Then again, the teenager in question was Eijiro's intern, which could kind of make him responsible.

Hail Satan. 

Live on the news.

Plus the property damage.

And the villain had gotten away.

So, alright, maybe it was bad.

"I already had a talk with him," Eijiro assured his former mentor. "Explained why that behavior wasn't manly." 

He hadn't known about "Hail Satan" being broadcast at the time of that talk, but words had been had.  Proper procedure and lessons on teamwork had been (re)explained. That had to count for something. 

Fat Gum rewound and played the news clip for the third time. Hail Satan. Not the most heroic image.

Eijiro should have just let Hang Ten be recruited to Shoto's agency.  He had gotten blinded when the kid had talked about what a Red Riot fan he was when he was highlighted during the Sports Festival.

"He told me you talked to him at the beginning of patrol too." Fat Gum spoke too carefully and still oozed enough disapproval that Eijiro was left wracking his brain to think of what he had done wrong.

"I usually do? Make small talk that is. Check in on the interns' lives."  He couldn't remember anything remarkable about the conversation at the beginning of the shift. 

"You were complaining about your friend's latest interview? How a soundbite was making the rounds out of context?"

Ah. Eijiro remembered that. Though it wasn't the out of context part that was really infuriating.  The Bakubro had technically told the man giving the interview to open his stomach, take out his small intestine, jump rope with it, and DIE --which really was more like friendly banter when you listened to the exchanges that surrounded it.

That was a normal Saturday. Suck on some car exhaust and die. Dance off the roof of a tall building and die. Dynamight was known to be a little hostile toward the press, and the reputation was deserved. What really got to Eijiro though was that the part of the interview where Katsuki had declared himself "gayer than Best Jeanist's acid washed retro age costume" was what was getting more attention--and not in the way where everyone was as proud of his bravery as Eijiro or lining up to throw their sons and brothers at him. 

"I might have mentioned something," Eijiro admitted cautiously. Had Hang Ten complained?  He guessed it wasn't very cool to vent to the interns about personal stuff, but if the kid had a problem hearing the opinion that Dynamight should be getting more support for coming out, well, Eijiro was going to try to not think too hard about any upsetting implication before he knew more. Jumping to conclusions wasn't very manly.

"He seemed to think it was his duty to get the media attention off of Dynamight."

"Oh." Fat Gum still looked serious, but now Eijiro was having trouble not smiling.

"It's not funny."

Hail Satan. That was a little funny.

"No, but it's hero behavior, being a protector," Eijiro decided the best way to deal with his smiling problem was to stop trying to hold back. He knew how to pick them. Loyal. Altruistic. The kid was going to make good. Well, once he got a little more fine control over his tidal wave. 

There was a moment of silent consideration, then  Fat Gum smiled too. "The agency has a history of attracting quality interns. Has done so for years."

Crisis maybe not technically averted, but all seemed well enough, understanding reached and the promise of a good resolution. 

That was until Hang Ten passed by the outside of the window, body surfing.

The third story window. 

Then he crashed through the lobby.

Eijiro prayed for the power and the patience to get the little deliquent in line.

Hail Satan.

No way was Eijiro that much trouble when he was younger.

[auxiliarydetective]

Love and War, Chapter 9

Foxholes

i. | ii. | iii. | iv. | v. | vi. | vii. | viii. | ix. | x. | xi. | xii. | xiii.

AO3

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When people talked about the worst times of the war, lots of times, the name that was called was Bastogne. How the soldiers had spent weeks in their foxholes with little supplies, little gear, little movement. Maybe, if Anita had been a soldier, she would have agreed. But she wasn’t. Yes, she had lost her squad at Bastogne. She had lost one of her best friends. But Bastogne had only been there to prepare her for what was to come at Foy. First Tessa, then Hoobler… and then Bill Guarnere and Joe Toye. While Tessa’s lifeless body had kept Anita awake for a night, the images from that day haunted her even in her sleep. But it wasn’t the last time her heart would shatter.

It had been a fairly mild evening for the Ardennes winter and a calm one at that, so calm that, after dinner, Anita hadn’t had to immediately crawl back into a foxhole. Instead, she was chatting with Muck, Penkala, Luz and Don between the trees. Luz, his usual jester self, was entertaining the group and looking joyous as ever while doing it. This time, he had a story to tell about Lieutenant Dike during one of the last shellings.

“It’s unbelievable," he said. “You might not believe it. So: You-know-who comes running up to Lipton. He’s got no helmet, no gear, no nothin’.” Then, he once again started one of his imitations. His impression of Dike was spot-on. “Uh, First Sergeant Lipton, you organize things here and I’m gonna go for… help.”

Anita grinned widely. Poor Foxhole Norman. In over his head. She felt a little bad laughing about him. But laughing was the best thing to do right now. Why not relish every last bit of joy they got?

“I need to polish my oak leaf clusters.”

“Hey, Luz," Lipton called.

He had approached the group from behind the trees. Maybe there was something important to discuss. Or maybe this was just the sign for their little group to disperse. So, everyone said goodbye for the night and headed off in different directions. Luz and Lipton in one, Muck and Penkala in another and Don and Anita in a third.

“What a lovely night," Don said, taking Anita’s hand as they walked. “Even lovelier to spend it with a beautiful lady like you.”

“What a charmer," Anita chuckled. “You’re right, it really is lovely. You can see the stars. Look, I think that’s Orion.”

“Yeah. And look, there, the big dipper.”

“It’s almost funny. Thousands of miles from home and the stars are still the same.”

They paused for a while, looking up at the skies above.

“Hey, Annie," Don said slowly, “once this is all over, how would you like to visit Oregon?”

“You mean come home with you?”

“Yeah, I, uh," Don stammered, “I didn’t wanna say it like that, but yeah.”

“Why shouldn’t you say it?” Anita questioned squeezing his hand.

Don froze for a second. He looked flustered, with wide eyes and flushed cheeks, though maybe they were just red from the cold. Anita loved seeing him like this. It was adorable. He was just like the day she had first met him, with those kind, lively eyes. “Well, because… you know, it sounds almost like a proposal and, uh, we’re not even together yet.”

“Well, would you like to be?”

“Huh?”

“You heard me. Donald Malarkey, would you like to be my boyfriend?”

Don beamed, a sparkle in his eyes that travelled over to Anita, making her feel all warm and fuzzy. What had she done to deserve him?

“Yeah!” Don grinned. “Absolutely, yeah!”

“You know, I’ve been waiting for you to ask me for a while now," Anita remarked cheekily. “Figured I might as well take matters into my own hands.”

That made it sound like she had been planning to ask him for a long time. But really, this had been an impulse decision. If there was one thing Anita had learned out in the Ardennes, it was to think less. To trust her instincts. She knew, deep down, had known for a while now, that Don was the one for her. Between shattered trees, Don took both her hands and pulled her into a kiss, a kiss sweet as sugar.

A loud bang stopped the moment abruptly. Immediately, Don yanked Anita forward, running through the snow. Another barrage. Why did it always happen at the worst time? Then again, there was never a good time. They found an empty foxhole and hurled themselves into it, bodies pressed against each other as the world around them was shaken by artillery shells. It was almost like this was the worst one yet. Blazes of light flickered in the night, so bad that they had to close their eyes to not go insane. When the barrage finally stopped, they stayed curled up together, feeling each other’s breathing, listening to each other’s heartbeat. Only very slowly, they moved apart again.

A figure moved closer through the trees. Only when it had gotten within a few feet did Anita recognize who it was: It was Lipton.

“Hey," he said somberly, squatting down next to the foxhole. “Malark?”

“Hey, Lip," Don replied, the hint of a smile on his lips. “That was a doozy, huh? Seems like the Germans are angry today.”

“Yeah… Listen… Muck and Penkala got hit. They didn’t make it.”

Anita’s eyes widened. Immediately, she looked over at Don. All the life had faded out of his eyes. It was like you could see the shattered pieces of his heart through them.

“Do you want to see their foxhole?”

Don nodded jerkily. He scrambled up from the ground like a rusty marionette. That was really the best way to put it, despite the fact that marionettes, being made of wood, couldn’t rust. But just like that, Anita had never thought she would see Don like this. Quickly, she got up and followed him and Lipton. She caught up with them and took Don’s hand, rubbing her thumb across his skin. He looked at her, though only through the corner of his eye, and without feeling.

When they reached the foxhole, it was barely recognizable as one anymore. Just a hole of dirt where the shell had hit. But what was even harder to imagine was that there had been humans in there. There was nothing left of them. Only a piece of Skip’s rosary that Don would carry with him for the rest of the war, the rest of his life even.

After that, Don wasn’t the same anymore. He wouldn't eat, hardly move, just sit around in silence staring at the rosary. Anita would sit with him, hoping it would give him some sort of comfort. As they sat there, together, Don would pull her close as if trying to convince himself she was still there, alive, real.

“Hey, Annie," Don spoke into the silence, rosary in one hand, the other wrapped around Anita’s waist.

“Yes?” Anita replied, looking at him with a spark of hope in her eyes.

“You’ve got to promise me that you won’t die. Alright?”

“I promise," Anita said. She had no control over it. Both of them knew. But she wanted to give him a sense of security. At least a little bit.

“Stay away from anything dangerous. Don’t go wandering around in the woods, stay in a foxhole if you can, just… Please, don’t put yourself in danger.”

“I won’t.” Not if I can avoid it.

“And… if you can… stay with me, okay? I like to know you’re here. I, uh, I need you here.”

“Of course.”

It was easier said than done. How was Anita supposed to keep those promises? There was no safe place for her to be. If anything, it might be further back, where she always went to cook food for the men. Or maybe with Captain Winters, back at Battalion CP. Well, there was also the aid station, but she was no nurse. This time, she hoped, the aid station would stay intact. It was in an open field, not in a city, made of tents, not in a building. The large red cross on its roof made it identifiable from the air. Hopefully, the Germans weren’t barbaric enough to have it bombed. Anita still made herself believe that the aid station being hit during the bombing of Bastogne had been a mistake. The Germans hadn’t known that that church had been an aid station. Deep down, Anita couldn’t shake off giving humanity to the Germans. There were people like Liebgott who saw them as nothing but barbarians and monsters and frankly, she found herself sometimes thinking that too. But they had to still be human, right? Lots of those soldiers had to be drafted, had to not want to be there. She was strengthened in that belief by the story Don had told of the German soldier he had met shortly after D-Day. Not all of those people down there in Foy, in the tanks, firing their guns could be monsters.

Later that day, Easy was back to its old position and Don and Anita sat in a foxhole, staring out at Foy beyond the trees. One day, Easy would have to run into that town and take it. Anita dreaded that day. She knew a lot less about combat than the soldiers did, but enough that, with Lieutenant Dike leading the attack, it could end badly. That was when First Sergeant Lipton approached them. Anita was already expecting him to announce the attack on Foy. But he didn’t.

“Hey, Malark," he said. “Hey, uh, didn’t I hear you say you wanted to bring home a luger for your kid brother?”

Don looked up at him with widened eyes, just a little life returning to them.

“Yeah…”

Lipton reached into one of the pockets of his jacket.

“Why don’t you, uh, why don’t you give him that?”

So that was what a luger looked like. Anita had seen pictures but never the real thing. An angled grip with a circular trigger guard, a rather boxy barrel and a long, thin muzzle. A weapon just like this had killed Donald Hoobler and now, it was in Don’s hands.

“It’s Hoob’s, right?” Don asked. It seemed he had had the same train of thought.

“Yeah," Lipton said. “I… I was gonna get rid of it, but… I don’t know. … Listen," he continued, changing the subject. “Captain Winters was wondering if you wanted to go back to Battalion and work as his runner for a few days.”

Get off the line, a change of pace, motion, different scenery. Maybe it would take his mind off things. But Don shook his head.

“Tell him thanks," he said. “Imma stay here.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he gazed at Anita. She was halfway expecting him to suggest her instead, to get her to the closest thing to safety. But he didn’t. After all, he still knew Anita’s wishes to be at the frontline and he still respected them, despite the danger, despite how much he worried.

“Well, look, why don’t you at least come back for an hour or so?” Lipton suggested. “Say goodbye to Buck. I’m sure it’ll mean a lot to him.”

“Alright," Don agreed. His eyes had gone back to the luger. It had an eerie fascination on him, Anita thought.

“You be careful with that," Lipton told him. Then he left.

For a while, Don and Anita sat in silence. Anita watched Don admire the luger, turn it in his hands, inspect it from all sides, sometimes hold it up in front of him as if to fire. With each and every second he held it, Anita’s anxiety grew.

“Hey, Don," she finally said, “could you do me a favour?”

“Yeah, what is it?” Don replied, finally looking up from the gun.

“Could you take out the magazine and give me the bullets? They’d be safe with me, they’d be the only bullets I have. No chance of me accidentally using or losing them.”

“You don’t trust it. You think it’ll go off.”

“Can you blame me? It’s happened before, I don’t want it to happen again. I want to at least know that, if it does go off, there’s no way you can get hurt.”

“Alright.”

So, Don took out the magazine. Six bullets. It looked like the magazine could hold eight. At least one other had killed Hoobler. As Anita held the bullets in her hand, she felt a sort of security. Now, it was made sure that another couldn’t hurt Don. At least in that regard, he was safe. She put the bullets into a small pouch within her bag, one that was usually meant to hold items like keys or coins in more domestic environments.

“Well, I’d better go say goodbye to Buck," Don said and got up.

Anita nodded. “Give him my best wishes.”

Despite the world-shaking incident that was the death of Muck and Penkala, the war continued. War didn’t care about personal losses, saw soldiers only for their manpower. But the soldiers themselves cared. Anita cared. She felt her shattered heart ache every time she saw Don sitting there with the rosary, every time he relapsed to that empty stare the death of his friends had taught him. Only a few days later, the dreaded attack on Foy came knocking on Easy Company’s door. Well, surely the men didn’t dread it, but Anita did. Or maybe they did, too. From the moment the attack was announced, Anita noticed changes in the men’s behaviour. They were tense. Very quickly, she found out why: None of them wanted to follow Lieutenant Dike into battle. Nonetheless, they would have to.

From the moment the men started taking their positions, Anita felt like an electrical current was running through her. Don took her hand and kissed her forehead. Both of them knew exactly why, though neither of them wanted to name it. For a while, Anita stayed behind at the tent where she made the meals, leaning against a tree. She felt cold. Cold, not only physically, but emotionally. It felt like shivers ran across her heart. Meanwhile, her mind felt like a carousel. When she heard machine guns in the distance, she knew it had begun. She tried to keep herself as calm as possible, told herself that the men would do their job and do it well, like they always had, but her mind was stuck beyond the trees, out on the battlefield. After a while, she couldn’t take it anymore. She got out of the foxhole and started walking towards the gunfire. Of course, she wasn’t going to go into battle. She had promised Don she would stay out of trouble. But god damn it, she needed to see it. It was like back at Aldbourne, only worse, because she was so tantalizingly close but completely powerless. The least she could do was get a look at what was going on.

At the edge of the forest, soldiers knelt in the snow. Another company, waiting, in reserve. In front of them, Captain Winters, Captain Nixon and Colonel Sink stood, overlooking the situation. For a few moments, Anita stood at the back, staring out at Foy in the distance. But what was that? Nobody was moving. Behind some hut-shaped hay bales covered in snow, soldiers that had to belong to Easy were huddled together like sardines. It was then that Anita got the feeling that something was going horribly wrong. Without thinking, she walked forward. She came to a halt next to Nixon who held a pair of binoculars to his eyes. When he put them down, he spotted her through the corner of his eye. For a moment he was perplexed, but then he sighed.

“Worried?” he asked quietly.

“Yes," Anita whispered. “What’s going on?”

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out.”

“You better get Dike on that radio to me now," Winters barked into a radio.

Anita had never seen him like this. He was completely tense and seemingly furious.

“Dike must’ve told the men to fall back against Dick’s orders," Nixon continued. “They were supposed to go in before the Germans could get their mortars and artillery ready but now, they’re sitting ducks.”

“My god," Anita murmured.

She felt Colonel Sink eyeing her, but her gaze was fixated on the men in the distance, her ears ringing with gunfire.

“Get going forward!” Winters yelled.

A runner had gotten from the hay bales to a building with another group of soldiers. Another had gotten shot down. Now, some movement got into the group behind the house. Three of them broke off from the group and started running for some cover further into the city but one of them immediately got shot. Machine gun fire flared up in the clocktower of the town’s church. Whenever someone tried to move, they only got two steps forward before dying or having to take cover again.

“You have to keep moving!” Winters shouted desperately. His heart carrying him, he ran forward towards the edge of the woods, towards the battlefield.

“Dick!” Nixon called and followed him. “Dick!”

“Captain Winters!” Colonel Sink yelled. “God dammit, you do not go out there! You’re the battalion commander, now get back here!”

Anita felt like she was about to explode from all the scurrying under her skin. She knew next to nothing about battles, but the yells of Captain Winters, the gunfire and the images before her made her feel like she was among those men, sitting ducks, waiting to get killed. She desperately hoped that none of her friends were among the men already dead in the snow.

Silently cursing himself, Winters turned around. Anita could see the conflict in his eyes, his feelings shaking him.

“I understand your attachment to Easy Company," Sink said, “but- “

“SPEIRS!” Winters shouted over his superior officer. “Get yourself over here!”

Speirs, the CO of D Company, dutifully came running. He was a legend. Even Anita had heard of him.

“Get out there and relieve Dike and take that attack on end.”

Speirs followed these orders without a word. Anita watched him reach the men behind the hay bales, attaching her last bits of hope to him. If Captain Winters couldn’t go out there and do it, he would have to lead Easy to victory or at least to safety. If anyone could, it was him. Despite the horrifying stories that had been told about him, there were also ones of heroism, of leadership quality, and those were the ones that Anita clung to now. Finally, movement came into the group. She could spot the men preparing to fire mortars. The shell hit a building in the city. As soon as the explosion flared up, Easy started running. Anita’s heart jumped, she felt like she was among them, felt with them on every step. But one man stayed behind, right where everyone had been huddled. A single man sat in the snow, motionless.

“Is that-?” Anita whispered.

“Dike," Nixon confirmed, binoculars to his eyes.

“Reed," Winters said sharply. The anger in his eyes made a shiver run down Anita’s spine. His eyes weren’t kind anymore, they were harsh and menacing. He would tell her off, wouldn’t he? “Go over there and get Dike to me now.”

“Yes, sir," Anita said, trying to hide how perplexed she was.

As she started running, she couldn’t help but think of her promise to Don. But what use was it? An order was an order. Deep down, she felt proud to receive one like this. “Stay away from combat situations," they had told her, and now here she was. Essentially a runner. Inside her, she felt the same contempt for Dike the men had to have. His foolishness had cost many lives and would surely have ended in disaster had it not been for Winters sending Speirs.

When she reached Dike, his eyes were opened wide, staring. Scarlet red tinted one of his sleeves. That was when Anita realized what had happened: He was shellshocked. Now, she almost felt bad.

“Lieutenant Dike," she said, kneeling down in front of him. But he didn’t look at her. “ Sir! …  Norman!”

Finally, their eyes met.

“You need to come back to Captain Winters with me.”

He said nothing, just sat there and stared. Then, he nodded jerkily.

“Alright. Can you get up? Can you stand?”

Slowly, like he was rusted, Dike started moving, scrambling about. She held her hands out to him. After a few seconds, he took them and let himself be pulled up. He swayed a little as he stood, relying on Anita for support.

“Take your time. We’re behind cover, we’re safe. Take a deep breath, in and out. There we go. In… and out. Very good. Are you feeling a little better?”

Dike nodded.

“Can you run?”

He nodded again.

“Good. On three. Ready? One… two… three!”

Then, she took off sprinting, pulling Dike along with her. He had some difficulties, stumbling, but he followed. Finally, they reached the trees. Anita delivered Dike safely to Captain Winters. Winters could barely keep himself contained before yelling:

“What was that, Lieutenant?! I told you explicitly to get in there fast! What the hell were you thinking?!”

To this, Dike stayed silent. Anita returned to Nixon’s side, overlooking the battle. From here, everyone was faceless. All the soldiers together were one unit. Without a word, Nixon offered Anita his binoculars. She took them, the faceless soldiers turning into individuals. She could see Perconte being treated by a medic, Bull not far away from him, Liebgott behind a large cart, Luz with his radio next to Lipton and Don on the opposite side of the road. But who captivated her the most was Speirs, running through the enemies all by himself. Seeing him like this, his courage, his determination, Anita was sure: With him leading Easy, things would be okay.

[world-of-grey]

Shade #001

“Court is adjourned.”

It was an easy win, but it didn’t feel like it. He knew his rich, pompous bastard of a client was guilty. He even admitted it himself, disgustingly proud, too …  but the evidence wasn’t enough.

He had been standing in the pleasant autumn weather, but he was bone-chilled freezing. It felt like aeons had passed, and the longer he stood, the laughter and warmth behind those doors felt like mockery. It was becoming routine, but today felt harder. But alas, he took a deep breath and, along with it, his last wrung-out bravery and unlocked the door of his haven.  

“Papa! You’re home!”  A girl came barreling down as the door opened and latched on to him.

“Oof! Aren’t you a bit too old now to still be a koala?” His arm instinctively engulfed his daughter,

“I thought starting today, you’re supposed to be rebellious, angsty.” He humorously continued as they tried to manoeuvre inside.

“I can be if you like.” She played along as they entered the kitchen.

“Actually, no. Stay as the cuddly koala you are.” He smiled fondly, “Happy 15, koala-bear.” Then, he messed her hair with a mischievous laugh, and empty complaints came from his daughter.

Noticing him, his wife beckoned, “Honey! Perfect timing. Can you take out the roast, please? I’m finishing the cake.”

When dinner was ready, the family dug into the comfort of their routine. Despite the joy he was savouring, a lingering darkness was pulling him under. He was trying to keep himself afloat, gasping for air as the waves kept coming.

“Honey? It’s work, isn’t it?” The familiar concerned gestures of his wife snapped him back.

“No, I’m fine.” He smiled reassuringly and returned his attention to his daughter, “So what happened next?”

“Oh goodness! Papa. Blue! After we washed it off, her hair was neon blue! It was hilarious! I feel terrible, but it was soooo funny.” 

“You did not.” 

“I did! You gotta believe me!” At that moment, he thought that he had finally drowned. He was no longer hearing his daughter’s voice but a recorded testimony of another teenage girl beaten and bruised with haunted eyes. He was no longer in the warmth of his home but back in the abnormally cold courtroom, watching a police tape.

“We, the jury, find the defendant not guilty.” 

His ears picked up an arrogant chuckle. An arm adorned in orange clasped his back, and a hand that probably never known labour grasped his for a handshake. 

“As expected. It was my words against hers.” 

He was disgusted with his tone, his presence. But he needed to be professional. 

Needed to do his job. 

Needed to support his family.

… So he did.

The numbered candles glowed along with his daughter's eyes. She was so joyous, so close, within reach, but he was so far away, haunted by an image ... a memory of a girl her age who looked like the world had fallen out of axis, ashen, breathing but…dead. 

All because of him…

Her memories became fiction. Her bravery became void. Her hope became null.

[ninjakk]

When I first noticed WWX was wearing white while on his way to JL's full month celebrations, my mind just went into overdrive as to the possible symbolic meaning of his colour choice. Personally I think there is actually quite a lot of meaning behind his choice and I think MXTX purposefully chose this colour for a particular reason, possibly even more than one.

“Speaking of it, there’s been a lot of joyous occasions these days, hasn’t there?” “You mean the seventh-day celebration of Jin ZiXuan’s son? There’s a whole pile of colorful things, and the kid didn’t like any of them. Cried so hard that the roof of Glamor Hall was almost screamed off. How amusing that he giggles like that whenever he sees his dad’s Suihua. His parents were so happy. They all said he’s going to be a wonderful swordsman when he grows up.” Not far away, a person in white was holding a jade tassel pendant in his hand, examining it carefully. Hearing this, he smiled.

Chapter 76 ExR

At first, for a split second, I thought the person in white was LWJ. But seeing that the person not only smiled, but did so at the mention of JL, I instantly realised it was WWX. Since the above scene is set in Lanling City, I assumed WWX might be endeavouring to stay as low key as possible, trying not to draw attention towards himself - hence the change to his usual attire.

The voice of a female cultivator came over, “Madam Jin is so lucky… She must’ve given up on rising into immortality in herlast life that she gained such good fortune in this life.” Her companion replied, “Looks like it’s true that no matter what you’re good at, it’s all fine as long as you have a good background. She’s clearly just so-so…” The person in white frowned slightly.

Chapter 76

If there was any remaining doubt that the person in white wasn't WWX, his reaction to the female cultivator criticising JYL would have diminished any lingering uncertainty! It also supports the assumption that WWX is definitely trying to stay incognito, because I am certain he would not let someone disparage JLY usually.

There are probably a lot of reasons why WWX decided to wear white. When I first read it I couldn't help but smile, thinking it was rather funny and very sweet of him to wear such a colour. WWX often makes comments about the Lan sect uniform and how they look like "mourning clothes" - yet here he is wearing a white robe. I can't help but think, he was drawn towards white because it reminded him of a certain Second Young Master Lan and his usual white flowing robes. The stunningly handsome HanGuang-Jun who he might have somewhat subconsciously suggested they name JYLs son after. It could even be a hint left by MXTX to show that WWX is still thinking about him, even though it's been quite some time since they last met. LWJ is still on his mind, as he always is.

White is such a contrast to his more recently adopted dark robes (or even purple, his old sect colour for that matter) - which makes me think this is why he picked them. He could have picked another contrasting colour, but he went with white. Trying to shake off the Yiling Laozu image and contradict the persona people had been spreading rumours and propaganda about. I think WWX might have also picked white because he wanted to show he is pure, clean and worthy of being at the full month celebrations. He wanted to contradict what people thought of him. Don't get me wrong, WWX couldn't care less what others thought or said about him, except for LWJ and one or two others. But I think he really wanted to make a good impression for JYL and help smooth over any animosity he could while he was attending the celebrations. Tragically, I think that WWX held a tiny speck of hope that things might get better.

Not only that, but I think on a subconscious level, picking white shows he wanted a fresh start, a clean slate. To move on from what had happened in the past and start a new. To show everyone he wasn't this dastardly villain everyone was making him out to be and was virtuous and empathetic. To show his cultivation path wasn't demonic or evil as so many deemed it. WWX is very pragmatic and I think this was obviously more of a dream, a mere wish deep in his heart and not something he could obtain. He never truly thought things could ever go back to the way they were before his life was turned upside down when Lotus Pier was attacked, triggering a series of tragic events that resulted in his current situation. But on a subconscious level, I think WWX wearing white shows his true feelings towards the lies that are being maliciously spread about his character and his need for people to see he is not evil.

In traditional Chinese culture, white has two very different meanings. As most will guess, white symbolises purity, brightness and innocence. It is also considered an unlucky colour, because of its association with death and mourning, as mentioned above. The fact it is often perceived as an unlucky colour and is very much affiliated with death, could be MXTX foreshadowing that everything is about to go down hill pretty fast! Hinting there is going to be a lot of death and misfortune for WWX, finally accumulating in his own demise.

Personally, I just love the idea of WWX looking through the robes in a store and having a warm, calming feeling wash over him when he finds a white robe. The colour instantly soothing the nerves he has around going to the celebration and his first outing to a formal gathering in quite a long time. All because it subconsciously reminds him of LWJ 🥰

[monocaelia]

[ what a rush ] and ajax? 🤍

i love didi!!!! (づ ◕‿◕ )づ

[ what a rush ]  –  for the long long overdue kiss to end, only for the sender to rest their head on the receiver’s, and comment “do you know how long I’ve wanted to do that?”

warnings : none!! just pure, unadulterated fluff <:

note : ya well, i love jade so checkmate <3

send me a prompt and i'll write you something short !!

the bustling city of liyue harbor thrives underneath the lone harbinger as he leans against a railing that looks over the crowd. children weave in and out as they chased one another, vendors shouting over the loud chatter trying their best to lure in customers and sell their wares and services, and couples linking arms as they slowly stroll through the busy streets.

ocean blue eyes linger on a particular couple and his heart lurches in longing: a young, azure haired teen eagerly dragging along his significant other to view the various booths lining the busy road, the lighter blue haired teen willingly being tugged along. both of their hands are intertwined and their joyous expressions are only ever directed at one another, as if they were the only two enjoying their date in the harbor.

it is then that an image of you materializes inside childe's subconscious. he wonders how it would be to hold your hand in his, how nice it would feel to pull you into his arms. would you let him take you out to dinner and shower you in so many intricate gifts to show you how much he loves you?

probably not; if anything you would put him in a chokehold for wasting his money on expensive gifts instead of anything useful, like bandages and medicinal ointments for the many times he has shown up at your door covered in bruises and dripping blood outside your home.

but he could only dream of you loving him back.

"penny for your thoughts?" your voice alerts childe, causing him to stiffen slightly before he turns to you.

despite wearing your usual attire and not particularly dressing up, childe finds you absolutely stunning underneath the moonlight. your arm brushes up against his as you sidle up beside him, leaning over the railing and glancing at the crowd below as he did earlier, and his heart begins to hammer against his chest.

a featherlight touch was enough to send the freckled harbinger into cardiac arrest, how funny.

"and why would you want to know?" childe answers, lips quirking up into a cheeky grin. "don't know if you plan to use that private information against me."

you scoff and lightly shove the harbinger. "as if i have enough power to win mental battles against the tartaglia, eleventh of the fatui harbingers."

childe shrugs. "i don't know, you alone already have enough power to take my breath away."

"oh please," you sigh, resting your chin on the palm of your hand as you lean against the railing, "keep saying things like that and i'll assume you're flirting with me."

"i have been for the past couple of weeks, but thank you for finally noticing."

the silence that follows his comment is thick and childe's heartbeat quickens but in the worst way possible. it did not help that you were staring at him with your eyes widened in shock and mouth slightly agape.

but before he could take back what he just said, you have already beaten him to the chase.

"you've been... flirting with me?"

"well," childe begins, turning away from you and reaching to scratch the back of his neck, "yes? i thought i was making it obvious with complimenting your fighting ability and asking you to spar, but clearly i wasn't."

the harbinger could feel the heat rising from within his body and he prays to the tsaritsa that his ears aren't giving away his embarrassment at this very moment when you begin to double down in laughter.

oh, his ears were definitely pink now.

"archons, you are such an idiot,” you say in between bursts of giggles. “how could i tell you were flirting when those are the most generic conversation starters to say, especially to your sparring partner?"

"well they were flirts to me!"

"oh, childe," you coo, stifling a chuckle that was bubbling between your lips, "you are the dumbest boy i have ever laid my eyes on. turn around."

and he does. you're staring at him with the biggest, sweetest smile on your face and childe feels his heart lurching. if he thought you were stunning before, you are ethereal now and his chest swells knowing that your eyes are on him and him alone.

your lips find his in a soft, gentle kiss and it's everything that childe has ever dreamed of. you're warm and delicate and it takes everything within him to stop himself from pushing the kiss into something more dominating and heavy.

instead, he savors how you taste on his lips and memorizes how you move against him, like the gentle push and pull of the tides as they come up to the shore. the way you kiss is intoxicating to him, and he wishes you would never stop so he could relive this moment forever and ever.

as the two of you pull away from one another, breaths intermingling as you steady your breathing, childe can't help the grin that grows on his face as the events begin to process inside his thick skull. chuckles escape from his lips as he gently touches his forehead against yours, chest blooming with pure delight and adoration for you and his newfound relationship with you.

"do you know how long i've been wanting to do that?"

[foreverindreamlandd]

Beach Day

Pairing: College!Bucky AU x Plus Size!Reader

Summary: The first line I wrote for this one was this: 

“Bucky sighs, then leans down to rest his hands on the arms of your chair and you look back up at him as he hovers over you with a smile on his face that makes your toes curl.’Y/n/n, you have five seconds to get out of that dress and into the water before I pick you up and toss you in, fully clothed.’” ;)

Beach days are always uncomfortable for you, especially when you decide to show off your new two-piece bathing suit in front of your friends. Your best friend and secret crush Bucky Barnes seems to like it more than you would have thought…

WC: 4.3k

Note: Fluff, a little bit of angst and self depreciation from the reader. Negative thoughts on body image. I know a lot of people said they liked how I wrote a love story with a plus size character in my To Be Wanted series and I tried to keep that honesty in this piece as well. It’s mostly just therapeutic for me and I hope it also helps some of you. Please be kind to yourself when reading. <3 

-----

“We should take a photo and send it to the casting directors of the new Baywatch movie or something. We’re missing out on millions letting this specimen go to waste.”

You lower your book and glance over at Natasha, then follow her eye line to the ‘specimen’ in question. Your best friend and descendant of Greek gods Bucky Barnes. 

It really isn’t fair how beautiful this man is. A six-foot body cut from marble, long locks of chestnut hair tucked behind his ears, eyes that matched the ocean he was currently diving into. 

What kills you the most is his smile, the most joyous and sexy smile you’ve ever seen in your life. 

Seeing him running around in just a swimsuit, tackling your friends in the water in a way that gives you a perfect view of the flexing muscles in his upper body, wet hair whipping around his face makes you glad that you’re sitting down in your beach chair. The free show you were getting has you so weak in the knees that you’re convinced if you tried to stand your legs would immediately give out. 

But, as always, you play it cool, feigning indifference toward your hot best friend. 

“Please,” you respond. “Imagine how cocky he’d get with an even larger swath of men and women drooling over him.”

It was pointless to show any genuine interest in him. To share with anyone -- even your closest friends -- that you had been in love with him since freshman year of college. He’s perfection incarnate and you’re….well….

Let’s just say that unlike your hot red-headed friend Nat, bikinis were nowhere to be found in your beach wardrobe. 

Sure, all bodies were bikini bodies (theoretically), but you were seriously lacking the confidence to show off your curves and your stomach for the world to see. In fact, the idea of taking off your floral sundress to reveal your high waisted two piece suit that left a sliver of your midsection uncovered fills you with dread. You were still getting used to the whole “body positive movement” and the thought of even a part of yourself being exposed seems like too much. 

Especially in front of Bucky.

Nat laughs. “That’s true. But hey, maybe then we’d at least find someone for him. I still can’t believe he’s been single for years. He could literally have anyone he wanted.”

You fight back a grimace and nod. It was true. Not only was Bucky jaw-droppingly gorgeous, he even had a personality that was somehow more attractive than his appearance. He was smart, funny, and charming as all hell. He was also the nicest guy you had ever met, always lending a helping hand to those in need, sticking up for others if they got picked on or bullied, stepping in at the bar whenever he saw a girl getting uncomfortable by a guy getting too handsy. 

It had always surprised you that in the three years you had known him, you had never seen Bucky express interest in anyone. Even at parties, when men and women were falling on top of him trying to hook up with the gorgeous, irritatingly unattainable Bucky Barnes, he would politely ease them off him and act as if he wasn’t surrounded by such beautiful people.

Instead of going back to his dorm room with a new hookup every night like everyone else, he would end up in yours. To watch movies, play games, or just joke about the shenanigans that had ensued that evening.

That was how it had always been since you met the first month of freshman year. You still remember it like it was yesterday.

It was a Saturday night, and your floor mates had gone out to a frat party. You decided to stay in that evening after the previous weekend when your friends were out wearing mini skirts and crop tops and you tried to look your best but you still saw the way the frat brothers eyed you and avoided you and tried getting you out of the way so they could stand next to your friends and-

Well, let’s just say you decided to have an evening off to yourself in the comfort of your room with a carton of Ben & Jerry’s and that night’s throwback movie.

“Is that The Iron Giant?” you heard a gravelly voice ask from the hallway.

You turned to the doorway and almost dropped your chocolate-covered spoon onto your new bedding. You had seen Bucky Barnes from afar since moving in, always letting your gaze linger a few seconds too long before finally looking away, trying to absorb as much of his beauty as possible.

Now, here he was, leaning on the door frame to your room in a black t-shirt and grey sweatpants, hair tied back in a bun, eyes glued to your TV. It was customary for the freshman on your floor to leave the door open if you were just chilling and welcoming visitors to join in on whatever you were doing. No one had a solid friend group yet, so you tried whatever you could to meet people. 

Still, you were surprised that someone was around on a Saturday night, especially Bucky.

Bucky looked at you after not getting a response, eyebrows raised. 

You came back to your senses and nodded. “I have a list of my favorite childhood movies to rewatch. You know, trying to cling to my youth and all that.”

Bucky chuckled, and it was the most beautiful sound you’d ever heard in your damn life. “You know, some might say that we still are ‘youths.’” He said the last part while making air quotes with his fingers.

You rolled your eyes. “Speak for yourself, pal. I’m literally in bed at 9pm on a Saturday. Might as well start calling me Granny.”

“Well, I’m staying in tonight, too. Does that mean I’m an old man?”

“Yep. Sorry to break the news to ya, Gramps.”

Bucky laughed again. “Bucky works, too.”

You smiled and gave him a small wave. “I’m Y/n.”

He waved back. “Nice to meet you, Y/n.”

“Likewise, Bucky.”

Bucky gave you a small smile, then took a tentative step inside your room. “So….does this movie night only allow admission for one person at a time or would it be okay for a fellow senior citizen to crash?”

“That depends, do you have your A.A.R.P. card on you to prove you’re of age?”

Bucky jokingly patted around the pockets of his sweatpants. “Looks like I forgot it at home. But I could buy us pizza to make up for it?”

You smiled. “Pull up a chair, Buck.”

After that, the two of you became inseparable. You went everywhere together, to the dining commons for almost every meal, football games, theater shows, and had weekly movie nights. And even as your friend group grew to include Nat, Steve, and Sam, everyone still knew you as a pair. Always Bucky and Y/n. Wherever one went, the other would follow.

Just as friends, though. You knew there was no way Bucky would be interested in a girl like you when everyone else was so willing to offer themselves up to him. Instead of just being another person who made him uncomfortable by always flirting with him, you actively treated him like a buddy. Purely platonic. You never sat on the same bed together, never slept over, and hardly touched one another except for the occasional hug during special occasions. Bucky didn’t seem to have a problem with the boundary and you needed it for yourself so that you wouldn’t catch feelings for your best friend.

Too bad that second part didn’t actually work out too well for you.

And now here you were on the annual trip to Natasha’s beach house on the Cape that happened one week in the Summer since freshman year along with Bucky, Sam, and Steve. It became a tradition for your group, a nice mini reunion during the four months off from school to see one another and catch up. Though you loved seeing everyone, going to the beach was the least favorite part of the trip for, well, reasons…

At least the view was nice.

Said view was now looking over at you and running out of the water and in your direction.

“God, he even runs in slow motion, sometimes,” Nat mutters.

Bucky stops right in front of you, wiping his hair out of his face. Though your eyes are covered by your sunglasses, you still do your best to keep your gaze focused on his face and not his abs which are just out of arm's reach.

 “Ladies,” Bucky starts, “we’ve been here for two hours and you still haven’t gone into the water. What gives?”

You shrug. “Still waiting to warm up. I feel a bit of a breeze and don’t want to freeze to death.”

Nat glares at you. “There is literally a bead of sweat trickling down your forehead, Y/n.”

You glare back at her and try to nonchalantly wipe the sweat away as Bucky chuckles.

“I was just about to head in, now that you mention it,” Nat says, getting out of her seat and taking her shorts off. “If anyone throws seaweed at me, though, I’m banning you from the beach house forever.”

Bucky gives Nat a serious look and salutes her. “On my honor, nothing of the kelp variety shall get within five feet of you.”

She rolls her eyes, then heads down the beach toward the water. “Good luck getting that one out here, Bucky,” she calls from over her shoulder.

Bucky’s eyes make their way back to you. “Well? You coming in or what, Granny?”

You laugh at the pet name you accidentally gave yourself so long ago and lift your book up to him. “Can’t, Gramps. The story’s getting too good.” You place the book back down on your lap and pretend to continue reading, unable to actually do so under Bucky’s watchful eye.

Bucky sighs, then leans down to rest his hands on the arms of your chair and you look back up at him as he hovers over you with a smile on his face that makes your toes curl.

“Y/n/n, you have five seconds to get out of that dress and into the water before I pick you up and toss you in, fully clothed.” 

The man was close enough that you could smell the mixture of saltwater and sunblock on his skin. How the hell did he make U.V. protection smell so sexy?  

You gulp, slowly closing your book without breaking eye contact with him. “Right behind you, Buck.” 

His smile widens and he gives you a quick wink before heading back to the water. 

You give yourself one minute to try to get all of the panic out of your system before finally standing up. You turn so that your back is to Bucky and the rest of the group and then gingerly lift your dress over your head. You slowly place it in your bag, attempting to prolong the inevitable as long as possible. 

The instant you feel sun touching the exposed part of your stomach you feel the urge to throw your dress back on and run to the house and hide there for the rest of your stay. Instead, you let out a small sigh, and turn to the group. 

They seem to pay you no mind, too busy tossing a football around and splashing each other. The only one to notice your trek over to the water is, of course, Bucky, who shoots you a boyish grin and waves you over. 

Seeing his excitement at your approach immediately fills you with ease and you return his smile. The water is beyond refreshing in the stinging heat, and you quickly run over to join the group. You wish that they were a little farther out in the deep end so that you could cover more of your body. Right now the water only hits your hips. 

Bucky’s eyes look you up and down. “New suit?”

You nod, looking down at your hand running through to water to avoid his inevitable judgment. “Wanted to try something different. Plus, it was on sale,” you respond. 

Bucky grins. “I’m liking different. It looks great on you.” 

“Buckyyyy,” you grumble, uncomfortable by the compliment. You fight the instinct to cover your stomach with your hands and instead splash Bucky. 

Bucky scoffs at the sudden attack and his grin turns totally mischievous.

“So it’s like that? Fine.” And he lunges at you, his arm wrapping around your waist as he pulls you underwater with him, muffling your squeal. His free hand grazes over your exposed midsection and you swear there are literal butterflies flying around in your stomach. You’re not entirely sure if the feeling is caused from excitement of the intimate touch from Bucky, or of horror from it.

Oh god, he must be disgusted by this.

To your surprise, though, Bucky’s hand doesn’t immediately flinch away from the direct contact with your skin. Instead, you feel it slowly slide along one side of your stomach to the other. It makes you dizzy. It makes you yearn for more of his touch.

The two of you break the surface and gasp for air. You’re too distracted by the unexpected contact to feel the bite of the cold water.

Bucky’s arm is still wrapped around you as he continues to give you that wonderful boyish grin. “How’s that for refreshing?”

Your eyes narrow. “You little…” you tackle him, arms wrapping around his neck as you push him back underwater with you. You take this opportunity to wriggle out of his grasp to try and run away, only to have him jump back onto you to pull you under once more.

The two of you continue this childish wrestling match, both grinning and giggling the entire time. Too distracted by one another to hear Sam grumbling to Natasha and Steve.

“How much longer do we have to wait until we slap some sense into them?”

Steve chuckles. “Give them time. They’ll figure it out at some point.”

“I have a feeling it’ll happen pretty soon, gentlemen,” Nat says, crossing her arms.

Steve and Sam raise their eyebrows at her. “What do you know?”

“Nothing you wouldn’t know if you had more than one brain cell, Wilson.” Nat yelps as Sam picks up a giant piece of seaweed and proceeds to chase her through the water, threatening to toss it onto her hair.

The cries of your friend pulls you and Bucky back into the moment and you both turn to witness the chaos unfolding in front of you, laughing at how ridiculous it looks.

“Some adults just don’t know how to act their age,” Bucky murmurs jokingly.

“So childish. We really can’t take them anywhe-” You turn back to Bucky and your words die on your tongue as you realize you’re still in his arms. And his face is inches from yours. It’s the closest the two of you have ever been, and yet it still doesn’t feel like it’s close enough. 

Blue eyes pierce into yours and Bucky’s mouth opens ever so slightly. You become hyper aware of a piece of his hair sticking to his face and move to tuck it behind his ear. You swear you hear a gasp escape from him.

Holy shit, is he moving closer to you?

“I’m going to kill you Sam,” Nat screams, and the two of you jump, turning back to your friends to find the giant piece of kelp laid out on Natasha’s chest. You move out of Bucky’s arms, suddenly embarrassed. 

Of course he wasn’t leaning in to kiss you, Y/n. Quit dreaming.

“Sam,” you groan, “you’re gonna get us kicked out of the Cape house!”

Sam shoots you a childish grin. “Worth it.”

“Speak for yourself, dude!”

“Alright everyone, let’s stay calm,” Steve interjects. “It’s almost time to go out for dinner, so why don’t we let Nat….get cleaned up and we can head out?”

Nat groans, gingerly picking off the pieces of seaweed with a very dramatic look of disgust painted on her face.

The gang heads out of the water and packs up their stuff, then makes the short trek back to the house. 

Right when you get inside and everyone starts heading to their prospective rooms to shower and change, Bucky gently grabs your arm to turn you towards him.

“Hey,” he says, looking down at the ground and then back up at you. Was he….nervous? “I was wondering if you’d be willing to skip dinner and stay in? Maybe we could do a movie night?”

You furrow your brows. “Uh, sure? Should I ask everyone else if they want to join?”

Bucky shakes his head, his hands fidgeting in front of him. “Just us? If that’s okay?”

You nod. “Sure, Buck. I’d love that.”

Bucky smiles. “Great, I’ll meet you down here in 30?”

“See you then.”

He gives your arm a small squeeze before running up the stairs to his and Sam’s room, leaving you standing in the hallway by yourself.

What was that about?

----

Thirty minutes later, just after Steve, Sam, and Nat had left for the evening, you head down to the living room to find Bucky sitting in the middle of the couch. He had apparently put more thought into this than you had anticipated because on the table in front of him was a pizza, a bottle of wine and two glasses that had already been filled. He had even lit some candles and placed them throughout the room, creating a soft glow.

You raise your eyebrows at the display. “Dang, Buck. You went all out.”

He smiles. “There’s even Ben & Jerry’s in the fridge for later.”

You return his smile and place yourself on the couch, sitting right against the edge to give you and Bucky the space you were so used to having.

It might be the lack of lighting, but you swear you catch Bucky frowning for a second. 

“What?” you ask.

“Why do you always sit so far away from me? I just showered, Y/n/n, I promise I don’t smell that bad.” 

He definitely did not. Even from this distance the smell of pine from his shampoo was currently driving you mad.

“I don’t know,” you murmur sheepishly. “I just don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Bucky barks out a laugh at that. “Seriously? Come here, Granny.” He leans over to grab your waist and pulls you next to him, then lifts his arm up to rest over your shoulders.

You’re pretty sure the whole goddamn block can hear your heart beating out of your chest.

Bucky peers over at you. “This okay?” Speechless, you move your head up and down and he chuckles. “Alright, let’s start the movie. Want some wine?”

-----

“I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again,” you declare, “Phil Collins had no right going that hard on the Tarzan soundtrack.”

“It truly is a masterpiece,” Bucky agrees.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to listen to ‘You’ll Be In My Heart’ without tearing up.”

“Well, we’ve watched it together at least five times and you have yet to prove that theory wrong,” Bucky says, lifting the remote and turning off the TV.

You giggle. “This was fun. Thanks for putting it together, Buck.” You poke him in the side.

Bucky grins at your touch and leans closer to you. “Anytime, Y/n. Movie nights with you are my favorite.”

Your eyes meet his and you smile. “Mine, too.”

Suddenly, the room becomes eerily quiet, and it’s just you and Bucky. Inches apart from one another like you were earlier at the beach. Blue eyes piercing yours, lips slightly parted.

And this time you’re sure that Bucky is moving in closer.

What?

His lips ghost over yours and you flinch, pulling back just a bit.

Bucky furrows his eyebrows, leaning back as well. 

“Shit, I’m sorry, Y/n. I shouldn’t have assumed…” He rubs the back of his neck.

You shake your head, trying to fight back tears. “No, it’s okay. It’s probably just the wine. You didn’t mean to do that. Accidents happen.”

Bucky frowns. “What?”

Heat rises to your cheeks and you fold your arms over your stomach. “I mean, this is me, Buck. Why would anyone in their right mind want to kiss me?”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Bucky sits up straight. He looks almost angry.

This time the tears do come and you bite your bottom lip. “Bucky, have you looked in the mirror, like, ever? You’re absolutely gorgeous. I’m just….” your voice breaks, “I’m just this gross blob of a person. You could have anyone you wanted, so why on earth would you want me?”

“Y/n, that’s literally the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard you say. And you’ve said some pretty stupid things.” 

Now, you’re mad. You stand up, flinging your arms in the air and walking to the middle of the room. “Bucky it’s true. Have you never seen how other guys look at me? They do their best to avoid me. I hear their snickers. I see the way they try to push me to the side so they can get closer to Nat. I see the way people scoff when they see us hanging out.”

You wipe away the tears from your eyes and Bucky’s gaze immediately softens. He stands up and walks over to you slowly, pulling you in for a hug. He squeezes you so tightly to him, as if trying to push every negative thought or feeling out of your body. Your hands cling to the back of his shirt as you rest your head against his chest. The sound of his heartbeat against your ear relaxes you after a moment and eventually the tears stop.

He gently pushes you away and rests his hands on your shoulders. He looks down at the ground, lets out a deep sigh, then locks his eyes onto yours.

“Y/n, I want you. All I’ve ever wanted was you. You’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met, the one person I feel most comfortable being myself with, who I laugh the most with. I think you’re smart, funny, beautiful, and just my favorite fucking person in the whole world. And I’m pretty sure I’ve been in love with you since you called me Gramps that first night three years ago. It fucking hurts so much that you feel like you’re not good enough for me compared to those who think they can just throw themselves on me like I’m some property they want to claim for themselves. Truth is, I was claimed long ago. I’ve never felt any sort of desire for them when I’ve had the best person by my side this whole time. It’s always been you, Y/n/n. I’ve always wanted you.”

Speechless. You’re speechless. All you can do is blink slowly up at Bucky, trying to absorb everything he’s just said to you. 

“This….this isn’t the wine talking?”

Bucky gives an exacerbated laugh. “We only had like two glasses, Granny. You’ve seen me knock back two bottles without even blinking.”

The corners of your mouth curve up ever so slightly. With a newfound confidence, you lift your right hand up to Bucky’s cheek. A soft sigh escapes him from your touch and your heart flutters at the sound of it.

Fuck it.

Your hand slides to the back of his neck and you pull him down until his lips reach yours. 

After years of secretly dreaming about what it would feel like to kiss Bucky -- how his lips would taste, how smooth they would be -- none of those dreams could ever live up to the real thing.

Kissing Bucky is the best feeling of your whole fucking life.

Clearly he felt the same. The moan he let out when his lips met yours was a good indication of that. He tilts his head to the side to deepen the kiss, and then suddenly his arms were wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against him. You respond by wrapping your arms around his neck, combing your fingers through his hair.

When it’s time to finally come up for air, the two of you pull away, resting your foreheads against one another.

Bucky is the first to speak.

“I have wanted to do that,” he says in between breaths “for a very, very long time.”

You smile. “Well why didn’t you say so sooner, Gramps?”

“I never knew if you were into me! You never made a move or anything. Always made a point to keep yourself at a distance. I wanted to respect that, Y/n.”

You groan. “I just thought there was no way you’d be interested. Also, I thought not groping you every chance I got was a breath of fresh air for you  since everyone else was doing it.”

Bucky kisses your nose, then rests his forehead back against yours. “And now?”

“Well, now I’m just sorry I made you wait so long. I had no idea you were suffering just as much as I was.”

Bucky chuckles. “You were worth the wait.” You smile into his lips as they meet yours for another kiss.

Suddenly, the lights turn on and the two of you jump away from each other to find Sam, Steve, and Nat standing at the door.

“Fucking finally, guys,” Sam exclaims, grinning widely. Steve gives the two of you a soft smile and nods in approval.

Nat just smirks.

“Told ya.”

-----

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[mochikeiji]

Looking Like U Got Me

Request: "Prompt no. 56 and 55 for Gojo ＼(^o^)／"

55. "You look like my husband/wife"

56. "Keep doing that and I'll marry you faster"

↠ Pairing: Gojou Satoru x Reader

↠ Warning: none! Simply fluff

↬ Word Count: 1.7k

↠ a/n: i accidentally mixed up prompts 55 and 57 ;-; but still hoping this turns out good!!

↳ from Go! Go! Gogatsu Event!

All he wanted was to wake up in bed, next to you— who would cuddle deeper in his arms even in slumber so he'd smother you with his kisses and tighten his hold around you and drift back to sleep longer, finally free of responsibilities for once and enjoy quality time with his only favorite person. But instead he wakes up with a groan passing through his lips, supporting his back side with his hand while shuffling to his side in a different position as the light sun rays shun through the window blinds, softly fanning his eye and forehead.

Gojo chuckles a bit before wincing. His lower back so tensed that he feels himself get older by the day. Pouting at the empty space next to him, he palms the cold sheet in wonder of where you are. Up so early in the morning when you could've just stayed in for him. How annoying. His eyes shut for moment when the scent coming from outside the room intruded his senses. Ah, you must be cooking breakfast. How sweet of you.

Thank goodness it wasn't another batch of dried crackers or cup of noodles that'll enter his mouth. He was never one to cook meals when he was on solo or when you weren't around. The very thought of not only the meal was awaiting for him outside, but also you excites him that it made him feel tingly inside. Call it dramatic, yeah, but it's not every day someone gets to wake up and immediately feel this full of love in the morning. You were the only and last love he's ever wanted to have in this world. It was so surreal even to him.

Sighing before pushing himself up, Gojo yawns out the remains of drowsiness in his system and stands. He didn't bother wearing a shirt since last night, claiming that he misses how his body rubs off yours in both comforting and suggestive ways. Plus it was just you and him home, he'd rather walk naked than wear the usual long sleeved uniform on a warm day.

The scent of coffee got stronger as he closes in his journey towards the kitchen. There was faint sizzling coming from the pan as you stood there in attendance. Stuck in your own little world, swaying to the sound of the radio playing, U got Me by Yung Heazy. It was one of the few songs that reminded you of Gojo back when you were both high schoolers. The exact song you remembered playing when you both hung out on a small cafe in Tokyo. Where he was so flustered, attempted to hide his blushes with his round glasses. The little things that reminded you of that memory never fails to make your heart race.

Of course Gojo knows this one as well. Because it was on that date as well he had call you, "his" after masking his embarrassment and from obviously checking you out every minute. How could he contain himself? He was a young man who was having trouble in the arts of love. Nevertheless he was glad to have grown up from those years. If his younger self could see him now, he'd be gagging at the sight of a softer version of his older self.

Snaking his arms around your torso carefully to avoid surprising you, he places his chin above your shoulder. Salivating at the sight of thick bacon in deep frying, shamelessly letting you know he was hungry from the sound of his stomach growling. "This is a nice way to greet me." you smile at the man behind you, who had his eyes closed in delight while rubbing his cheek against yours like a cat in need of attention. "Good morning to you as well, sweet cheeks." he says after  pressing a kiss on your skin.

"You got up early." whining softly, his hair and nose tickling the side of your neck and shoulder, "I was hoping to stay longer y'know?" trailing his hands underneath the his shirt you were wearing, mapping out on all the skin he could squish and hold with his large palms. Noticeably pressing himself closer to your body, the much needed space gone but you weren't complaining. After all, this was Gojo, a man who knows no boundaries.

"I wanted to make breakfast for you. We haven't had one together since we're both busy." you say as you grabbed the nearby plate, turning off the stove as the now cooked meal sizzles softly from the pan before sliding down to the porcelain surface. In attempt to lick his lips at the now prepared food, his tongue grazes upon your skin, sending you to jolt a bit, hearing the joyous laughter from him as he places a kiss on the spot as an apology.

"W-why don't you go sit down, there's rice bowls and cooked eggs prepared already." stammering, you quickly excused yourself away from his embrace to clean out the mess from the counter. Gojo sighs out the adoration but obliges to your command. Not long after you had finally settled down in front of him. Seeing him in all smiles as he scarfs down on his food made you smile as well. Thank goodness his blindfold was off, they looked adorable twinkling in happiness.

This felt nice. To have an opportunity to be a normal couple once again. So many times you could only daydream of scenarios like this. He could say the same as now that you were present on the usual spot he'd come home to empty. Often dozing off during meetings thinking of where you were or how you were, the multiple times Megumi has fed up with his whining about how he never gets to see or have more time with you. Nobara even pointed out a fact saying, "You act as if you're both married." and Yuuji, being the happy child of the three had said something that always ponder in his mind, "Why don't you marry each other yet, sensei?"

It was a statement he's been considering for a long time. Marriage. Of course Gojo wanted to marry you after years of torment love. To have his precious students say that you both already looked as if you were married got him all heart racing, and very very happy. He's had vivid images of a life with you. Not far from what it is today, but imagine. Unlimited happiness after so long of fearing it. Perhaps maybe even tiny legs running around, giving him such big love as his grows for the family he's craved, watching you smile beside the doorway and calling them in for a meal.

If marrying you means he can have that every day, then the hell with it.

"You look like my wife."

The spoon drop echoes. Slowly his face erupted into a faint blush while staring back at your widened eyes and opened mouth. "What?" gulping down the stuck food in your throat, Gojo bites his lips watching you maintain your composure. So cute. "Y-you know you say funny stuff when you're out of it. Maybe some daifuku would help? Yeah! Wait a sec." quickly getting up from your seat and rummaging in your fridge, you breathed out the heavy puff of air from your lungs.

He did not just say that so directly towards you. Maybe you were dreaming? You wouldn't be if your heart wasn't practically being forced out. Gojo is always fun and games, right? He doesn't mean that.

Sad to think of it that way.

"Ow!" thumping your head above the fridge as you grabbed some of the take outs of Daifuku you got yesterday, closing the fridge back before returning shortly to Gojo, who seemed as out of it as you were. "You did say your brain functions best when you eat sweets. Luckily for you I bought these yesterday. That's why I cooked earlier now because I wanted to try it out with you!"

Gojo can't tell if he wants to be offended at the fact that you think he was joking or just now, cover his half of his face to hide his laughter and igniting squeals. God he wished he had his phone right now, the moment was just so priceless and precious as you were.

"...ter"

Muffles from behind his hand was heard. Tilting your head to the side, trying to process what he said but no avail. "What was that?" you moved a little closer next to him, tapping his hand away almost eagerly. When he does, you spot that knowing smile present on his lips and the uncharacteristic blush still painted on his cheeks.

"Keep doing that and I'll marry you faster, honey."

You've gotten more shy when his hand held yours in the most loving way while drawing patterns. Searching through his eyes if he was playing around, but you were met with ones you know of when they were full of sincerity. "I-i. You know, they were so cheap anyways and I figured you'd want them." he snorts before leaning his head on your arm and laughs hysterically. It was painfully obvious that you were in state of shock that you couldn't even process his words.

Up until now the effect he has on you was still there like before.

"Sweetie." he turns his body away from the table to face you, pulling you so that you were standing in between his legs looking down shyly on the floor. "I'm serious." his fingers reached for your chin to pull your head up to meet his features. His other hand still holding your smaller one; index finger tracing your ring finger in circular motions as if he was creating a make believe ring.

He should thank himself for falling in love and be trusting once again.

Because now, staring back at your eyes filled with the same amount of emotions as his. Reciprocating the exact thing he was feeling. Waking up just to start the day already wanting him to be there. Knowing all the littlest things he's shared. Hearing the erratic sound of both of your heart beats.

He knew he's made the right choice.

"You really do look like my wife. My future."

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