#but Trace memory is just… so much cooler

[probablygayattorneys]

Okay, I get that Europe actually got the sequel so I guess it’s only fair that now they get the name in the remake and everything but can we all just take a second to all agree that Trace Memory is a way cooler name than Another Code?

#trace memory #another code #another code recollection #like they actually got the sequel so they deserve to have it be their name #but Trace memory is just… so much cooler #so much more mysterious #so much more interesting #queue takumi defense squad

[softsturn]

the beach - m.s

⩩ pairing: matt x fem!reader

⩩ summary: matt is caught jerking off to his best friend (inspired by @heartstreet !! full creds to them for this idea)

⩩ warnings: masturbation, handjob, p-in-v, half assed writing at the end.

⩩ a/n: sorry i haven’t posted much, its been so hard to think of ideas. i wanted to make a part two of what i last posted but i literally don’t know how to continue it😭 thank you for all the likes and follows!! pls leave me requests :)

Describing the bond between you and Matt exceeds the simplicity a mere friendship. Growing up, you lived only a few houses away from his, you shared the same schools, and practically every experience was a joint venture. It wasn't just common knowledge; it was an undeniable truth that wherever you went, a blue-eyed boy with brown hair was sure to follow, mirroring your every step like a lost puppy. The invisible tie binding you two seemed unbreakable, preventing you from straying far apart.

Now, at Cape Cod, a destination woven into the fabric of your cherished summer memories, you eagerly await Matt and his family’s arrival. Setting up foldable chairs and towels on the sandy shores, you can hardly contain your anticipation, eager to continue the tradition of shared moments under the sun.

As if on cue, his family strolled towards the beach, carrying an assortment of towels, bags, chairs, and a cooler. Your face lit up with a vibrant smile upon spotting the three identical boys approaching with palpable excitement. They placed their belongings on the sand, and you greeted them eagerly.

Matt's eyes widened noticeably, practically popping out of his sockets as he unabashedly drank in the sight of you. While you maintained your usual level of beauty, his gaze lingered on your figure. Stepping out of your comfort zone, you had chosen a two-piece bikini opposed to a one piece like you normally wore, showcasing newfound confidence in your evolving body. The swimsuit hugged you in all the right places, baring your torso and clinging snugly to your curves. Matt found himself caught in a momentary, lustful gaze, slightly zoning out as Nick and Chris enthusiastically hyped you up in the background.

"You look so good girl!" exclaimed Nick, with Chris joining in laughter, while you, feeling a bit shy, crossed your arms over your stomach.

Coming back to reality from his fleeting thoughts, Matt nodded and offered you a small, genuine smile. "You look..." he hesitated, carefully choosing his words to avoid any discomfort for you. "Pretty," he mumbled sheepishly, prompting a soft blush to grace your face. Matt's compliments held a unique significance, seeming to carry more weight than others, his opinion reigning supreme in your mind.

"Thank you," you replied with a shy giggle, while Nick and Chris exchanged amused glances, furrowing their brows at the subtle dynamics unfolding between the two of you. The unspoken connection, the palpable undercurrent of something more than friendship, was evident to everyone around. Jokes from your parents about an impending marriage and teasing from Matt's brothers were constant reminders of the unspoken truth – you and Matt shared a love that transcended platonic feelings, even if the explicit words hadn't been uttered.

After a few hours under the warm sun, the faint emergence of sunburn and light freckles adorned your face, telling tales of days spent soaking up the heat. Meanwhile, Matt wrestled with his thoughts, a delicate balance between loyalty to your friendship and the desire that threatened to breach inappropriate territories. He harbored a profound fear of jeopardizing the trust you shared or causing any discomfort, acutely aware that losing you was a risk he couldn't fathom.

As you stood, engrossed in gathering your belongings and bending over slightly, Matt couldn't suppress the way his gaze involuntarily traced the curves of your figure, particularly fixating on your ass. His mind danced with forbidden scenarios, imagining actions he both longed for and felt conflicted about. Sensing a warmth spreading through him, he nervously looked away, trying to prevent any telltale signs of his internal struggle.

You straightened up, holding your possessions with a toothy grin, completely oblivious to the subtle turmoil in Matt's mind. "I'll see you back at the house," you said softly. Matt offered a slight nod and joined his brothers in packing up their belongings. As you made your way to your car, your parents loading up the trunk, you settled into the back seat, succumbing slowly to sleep, the exhaustion of the day catching up with you.

Waking up with a groan, you found your parents' car parked by the side of the road in front of the triplets' house, just a few doors down from your own. The plan was to spend the night at their place, a routine that had become usual given your inclination to seek comfort in their home over your own. Extracting yourself from the car, you grabbed your overnight bag, bidding farewells to your parents as you watched them drive away.

Your bathing suit clung persistently to your body, your hair still damp, and the weariness in your limbs yearning for the promise of relaxation. Shuffling into Matt's home without bothering to knock, the unspoken familiarity of years spent together allowed you the privilege of simply letting yourself in. Passing through the kitchen, Matt's parents greeted you with warm smiles as you entered the living room.

There, Matt, Nick, and Chris were sprawled on the couch, engrossed in a movie that you were sure they had seen at least a thousand times. When Matt's eyes met yours, a soft expression played on his face, evident in the effort to maintain eye contact with your face rather than letting his gaze wander.

"Hey," he murmured, and you returned the greeting with a gentle smile, playfully ruffling his hair as you stood over him. "Hey, I'm gonna go shower. I'll join you guys if you're still out here when I'm done." With that, you ventured down the hall, heading toward the guest bedroom.

In the midst of a hot shower, as you washed away the residue of salty water and sand, Matt and his brothers grew disinterested in the movie, dispersing to their separate bedrooms. Collapsing onto his bed with a weary sigh, exhaustion permeated Matt's body. Turning to his phone, he absentmindedly scrolled through various social media apps. Refreshing his Instagram feed, he stumbled upon a recent post you had shared before stepping into the shower.

The post featured a series of photos taken by Nick during your beach outing. One image captured you from the side, accentuating your ass and curves, while another showcased the contours of your cleavage and perky boobs from the front. Although the intention behind the pictures was innocent, Matt's mind became inundated with impure thoughts. Consumed by a sense of guilt, he recognized the inappropriateness of his desires, grappling with conflicting emotions. You were his best friend, and he was acutely aware that such lascivious thoughts were unwarranted. It was more than mere lust; he harbored genuine love for you and a desire to be a person deserving of your affection.

As Matt stared at his screen, a warmth enveloped his body, and he found himself unable to suppress the physical reaction, a boner forming in his pants. He felt conflicted, but it wasn’t like you knew what he was thinking, or doing. Succumbing to the intensity of his desire, he pulled his pants down enough to free himself, his cock springing out of his boxers. He took his cock into his right hand, phone in his left hand, and he began to stroke himself, allowing his imagination to run wild with scenarios that had occupied his dreams. The room echoed with subtle grunts and whimpers as he finally started to release the pent-up feelings that had plagued him throughout the day.

You emerged from the invigorating shower, enveloped in a towel, the sensation of cleanliness and renewal coursing through you. Exiting the bathroom, you ventured into the guest bedroom designated for your night's rest, shutting the door behind you. As you delved into your bag, extracting essentials like panties, shorts, and a tank top, the soft fabrics embraced you once you shed the towel. Nighttime rituals of hair brushing, skincare, and teeth cleaning completed, you settled into the guest bedroom, a sanctuary that had become almost like your own.

The tranquility was fleeting, interrupted by a shiver that prompted a quest for warmth. Rummaging through your bag, you discovered the absence of a hoodie – an oversight that led you down the hall to Matt's bedroom. Assuming he'd still be awake, you envisioned a simple request to borrow one of his hoodies. Little did you anticipate the unexpected scene awaiting you.

Without bothering to knock, a habit formed over years of friendship, you barged into Matt's room, focused on your hoodie mission. "I need to borrow a hoodie; it's freezing—" your words trailed off as your gaze absorbed the shocking sight. Matt, in his bed, his hand pumping up and down his cock, his phone displaying pictures of you. A gasp escaped him as your presence registered, his eyes meeting yours with a mix of surprise and guilt. "Y/N..." he uttered, his phone slipping from his hand onto the bed, his hand movements abruptly halted in the realization of the awkward situation.

"Oh my god, I'm sorry; I didn't think—I should've knocked. I'll just go get one from Nick," you mumbled nervously, ready to retreat. The air hung heavy with the unspoken tension, both of you grappling with the potential ramifications on your friendship. Before you could exit, Matt called to you, conflicted between wanting you to stay and the desire to erase this awkward moment.

"Don't go," he uttered, wincing at his own words, attempting to clarify that he wasn't making advances or asking for anything. You stood there, caught in a surreal tableau, uncertain about how to navigate this unexpected revelation. Blinking in an attempt to regain composure, you voiced a question laden with curiosity and awkwardness.

"Do you... do this often?" your brows furrowed, your gaze drifting toward his needy cock. Matt sighed, grappling with shame, attempting to rein in his emotions. "Jerk off? Or jerk off to you..." he replied, injecting a hint of humor to alleviate the palpable tension.

"Jerk off to me," you clarified, offering a sheepish smile, grateful for his attempt to inject some levity. Matt, in a vulnerable admission, stumbled through an explanation, striving to avoid sounding like a creep. The guilt weighed heavily on him, sensing that he had betrayed the sanctity of your friendship.

"This is the first time—I'm sorry. You just looked so pretty all day, and I couldn't... I don't know," he rambled, his remorse evident. Expecting you to recoil, Matt braced for the consequences of his impure thoughts. Yet, to his surprise, you stepped closer, the bed dipping as you sat on the edge near his legs. Your eyes danced everywhere but on his throbbing cock.

"It's okay; I'm not mad," you reassured, the tension easing with your understanding words. In that moment, you appreciated the side of Matt that could inject humor even into the most awkward situations, and despite the strangeness of the circumstance, a reassuring smile graced your lips.

"You're not?" he asked, confusion etching his face as his gaze reached the end of the bed where you were. The bewilderment stemmed from the expectation of your anger; he believed he deserved your fury. You shook your head, dispelling any doubts that lingered in his mind. "I'm not mad," you affirmed, inhaling deeply before contemplating the weight of your next words. The undeniable truth of their mutual feelings lay bare, an unignorable reality that both had been evading.

"Do you want me to help you?" you inquired, addressing the underlying tension. Matt hesitated, shaking his head in a refusal. Your offer, though tempting, made him reluctant, not wanting you to feel obliged, and questioning his own worthiness of such an intimate gesture. “Y/N… you don’t have to.”

Sighing, you crawled to sit on his knees, his cock twitching right before you, aching for release. It wasn't about obligation; it was about love. You wanted to be the one to bring him pleasure. "I know, I want to," you reassured, meeting his gaze as he deliberated. "Please," he whimpered, desperation evident on his face. Taking it as a signal, you palmed him, your hand trembling slightly as you sought confirmation in his eyes, ensuring every move was met with consent.

As you encountered nothing but longing in his gaze, your hand tentatively began to move, gliding up and down his length. The unspoken revelation that you were not very experienced was apparent to him, and a twinge of guilt crept in as he allowed you to pleasure him. Determined not to make this solely about his satisfaction, he seized the moment, grasping your wrist and redirecting your hand away from his arousal, prompting you to lean forward.

In an impulsive move, he pressed his lips forcefully against yours, his tongue seeking entry, savoring the taste of your chapstick. The kiss bore neither aggression nor softness; instead, it carried the weight of years filled with tension, prolonged gazes, and lingering touches, finally unfurling in this shared moment. Pulling back slightly, he noticed your lips chasing after his, seeking more contact with his lips.

"I want to make you feel good too," he murmured against your lips, his words flushing your face with heat, a wetness growing between your legs. The dynamics shifted, and now it was you yearning for him. His hands found your hips, drawing you closer until you straddled his waist, your clothed pussy pressing against his cock. His fingers hooked into the waistband of your pajama shorts and panties, seeking consent as he looked up at you.

"Can I take these off, baby?" he asked, and in response, you nodded, lifting yourself to allow him to slide them down your legs before resuming the straddled position, anticipation hanging thick in the air.

You took a sharp breath, nerves tingling as you ventured into unfamiliar territory with Matt. As he ran a finger through your wet folds, he licked his lips, captivated by the sight of your pretty pussy. In that moment, Matt would have done anything and everything you asked, he was completely at your mercy. Firmly holding your hips, he allowed your wet cunt to hover over his cock. While his desires tempted him to force you down and make you take it, his deep care for you held him back, especially given the significance of this being your first time.

"Go slow, okay? It's going to hurt a little, but I'm right here," he said. Nodding, you began the descent, wincing as his tip slipped into your enterance. "Oh my god, Matt," you moaned, your words interrupted as Matt leaned up, pressing his lips to yours to stifle your sweet sounds, mindful of his brothers sleeping down the hall.

Gradually, you took more of him in, whimpering at the initial stinging sensation as his cock stretched your tight walls. Eventually, you lowered yourself completely onto him, pausing to adjust to the sensation of him buried deep inside you. "Such a good girl, taking me so well," he cooed.

“Feels so good,” you murmured, the words escaping on a breath as you began to move your hips against him, keeping a steady rhythm. He gripped your hips firmly, and you were sure there would be red marks left behind. His kisses trailed down your neck, lips brushing over your collarbones and shoulders, marking you with purposeful hickeys that finally declared you as his, even though you had always belonged to him.

Slowly, he lifted your tank top over your head, tossing it aside in the room's shadows. "So fucking pretty," he mumbled, his gaze lingering on you through half-lidded eyes. His mouth descended, lavishing much-needed attention on your boobs, kissing and licking your sensitive nipples with devotion. In his eyes, your body was a masterpiece, and he aimed to ensure you knew just how perfect you were. Every gesture was a testament to his worship, eliciting small moans of pleasure as you succumbed to the sensations he bestowed upon you.

"Faster, please," he choked out, a desperate need cracking his voice as he trailed kisses down the valley of your breasts. Swiftly obeying, you quickened the pace, moaning as you rocked back and forth on his cock. Yet, the soreness lingering from your day at the beach made it challenging. Matt noticed, his hands helping to move your hips, orchestrating a rhythm that heightened the pleasure. He began to thrust into you, hips meeting yours, intensifying the sensation.

Throwing your head back, eyes rolling, pleasure consumed you, a knot tightening in your stomach. One of his hands left your hip, moving downward, his thumb expertly circling your swollen clit. Overwhelmed, words escaped you, your mind consumed by him. "Fuck, Matt," you managed to whimper in your love-drunk state, a proud smirk gracing his lips as he witnessed you lost in pleasure, knowing he was the only one to evoke such a response.

"Cum for me, princess," he urged in a whiny, broken voice, his own release imminent. His words triggered your climax, a stream of mumbled curses and whines escaping you as pleasure saturated every inch of your being. Surrendering to the intensity, you abandoned your movements, letting him guide and sway you through the waves of orgasmic ecstasy. His release followed suit, white streams of cum shooting into you, accompanied by his whimpering and grunting.

As the movements ceased, he lay beneath you, both of you attempting to catch your breath. Gingerly lifting yourself off him, a wince accompanied the sensitivity as his cock withdrew from your cunt. Rolling over, you nestled next to him, curling into his side, a lazy hand draped over his waist. His hand found its way to your head, tenderly stroking your hair as you rested against his chest, syncing your breathing with his.

"Get some rest; I'm taking you on a date tomorrow," he grinned mischievously, planting light kisses on your forehead. Raising your head, curiosity piqued, you questioned, "A date?" He nodded, gently pushing your head back to his chest, his fingers continuing to stroke your hair in a soothing rhythm.

"A date. So I can ask you to be my girlfriend," he chuckled, of course Matt wanted to do things right despite having just fucked you dumb. You chuckled in response, appreciating Matt's intent. "Okay, I can't wait to say yes," you declared, both of you closing your eyes, eager for the embrace of sleep and the beginning of this new chapter in your relationship.

#matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo x reader #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo fluff #nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo #fluff #smut #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo oneshot

[leaentries]

headcanons | cole caufield

SUMMARY: boyfriend!cole

WARNINGS: none

more boyfriend!player headcanons

✮. he’s so sunshine a rainbows and it’s adorable. he would bend over backwards to make sure you’re happy. definitely keeps a hair tie on his wrist for you at all times.

✮. the type to dance with you in the kitchen when everyone else in the house is asleep. you guys would be giggling so loud bc everything is just funnier when you’re supposed to be quiet.

✮. cuddle sessions with his dog! you guys curl up in his bed all cozy and warm, with his puppy situated between the two of you.

✮. for some reason i see cole loving pool dates during the summer. grabbing coolers and bags full of everything you’ll need for the day. making sure to rub sunscreen all over your body and you do the same for him. he also loves to watch you sunbathe ;)

✮. such a fun boyfriend like will always want to play games with you. whether they’re board games, video games, etc. he just loves to spend time with you and make sure you’re both enjoying yourselves.

✮. along with this, he loves to do crafts with you. like if you’re super interested in making jewelry or crocheting, you bet your ass he’s right beside you either helping or wanting you to teach him how. the boys definitely give him a good chirp or two when pictures of him get leaked to the team group chat.

✮. small spoon. no arguments. he obviously loves to hold you while you sleep, but much rather prefers to lay on your chest and listen to your heartbeat. the feeling of your soft body against his, paired with the rise and fall of your breasts will lull him to sleep in record time. will cling to you like a koala, i mean full arms and legs somehow wrapped around you.

✮. prefers to keep an arm around you while in public. it just helps him feel more secure knowing you’re right beside of him.

✮. i feel like he would love to have one of those location sharing apps like life360 or something. he doesn’t want to control you or stalk you in any way, he just a likes knowing where you are in case of emergencies. although sometimes he’ll just pop up out of nowhere bc he was bored and decided to see what you were up to.

✮. cole loves to trace your facial features when you sleep. running his fingers ever so softly over the swoop of your nose, or tracing the special spots of your freckles. he loves when you fall asleep first so he can take the time to admire every single detail of your face and commit them to memory.

✮. pretty much, he’s just a big ole softy

#cole caufield #cole caufield x reader #cole caufield headcanons #cole caufield imagine #cole caufield blurb #montreal canadiens #lea writes stuff ♡

[lunarbuck]

Anything/Everything

a/n: this is literally incoherent rambling... sorry. this is mostly just coming from the fact that i feel very lost rn so sorry in advance for that

not beta'd and barely edited, any and all mistakes are my own

bucky barnes & f!reader (any race) have a conversation on a fire escape

no warnings apply

my masterlist  | @lunarbucklibrary

The air is crisp and cold as you climb out the window and onto the fire escape. The metal railing is cool against your palms, grounding you to the moment. There’s too much smog in the city to see any stars other than the North Star. 

Tonight, just like every night, you make a wish. You wish for things to be different, for someone to come sweep you off your feet and take you to Neverland. To take you away from all of this. And tonight, just like every night, you know that won’t happen. That doesn’t keep you from wishing, though. From gazing up at that bright ball of light in the smoky sky and wishing with all your might, for someone. Anyone, to come save you.

Your fire escape is small, but there’s enough room for a little picnic chair, which you settle into after making your wish. The sounds of the city echo and muddle together into a familiar symphony, the background to your nightly ruminating. 

There’s just enough light coming from your bedroom window to journal by, and though summer is fading to fall, you can bear the cooler temperatures for long enough to do tonight’s entry. You pop the cap off your pen, flip to an open page and jot down the date. 

Just as you start writing your entry, you hear the familiar sound of boots on the fire escape below you. You don’t need to peek down to know who it is. Well, technically, you don’t know his name, but you know his face. Those piercing blue eyes, that dimpled chin. 

He moved in last month but no one in the building knows his name. He’s like a ghost. But you’ve come to think of him as your ghost, since every night, he comes out just like you do. You’ve come up with your own story of him, that he’s wishing on the stars just like you are. That he’s just as lost, just as confused, as you are. 

You return your focus to your journal, scratching out your thoughts as they pour out of your head. You’re so focused that you miss the ghost from downstairs walking up toward you. You miss him taking a seat a few steps away from the top. You miss the way his familiar blue eyes trace your features, committing them to memory, and the small smile that graces his lips for just a moment.

“What do you wish for?” He asks, his voice cutting through the night. You jolt. The timbre of his voice makes you shiver, it sends electricity sparking through every nerve in your body.

All you can do is stare at the ghostly man in front of you.

“What do you wish for,” he asks again, this time more gently. 

“Anything,” you whisper.

“What do you write about?” You tip your head from the man up to the sky.

“Everything.” Silence falls between the two of you before you take a deep breath, returning your gaze to the man. “How did you know I was making wishes?” A whisper of a grin that disappears as quickly as it came crosses his lips.

“Because I’m making wishes too.” If this was anyone else, you’d make a joke, break the fierce tension that’s fallen in the space between you and the ghost. But you can’t help but feel like he can see right through you, right down to your soul.

Now, it’s your turn to ask, “What do you wish for?”

His eyes trace your face leaving a burning trail in their wake. “Someone.”

You slide off your chair, letting the chill of metal seep through your pajama pants. The ghost stays put.

“Who?” His blue eyes shift to your surroundings, the sky, eventually settling on the moon.

“I’m not sure anymore.” This moment, so full of vulnerability, makes your throat tighten. “I lost him a long time ago, I think. I guess I just thought he’d come back. He always came back.” The ghost in front of you looks more human with every passing second.

His dark hair, clipped close on the sides, is ruffled like he can’t stop running his fingers through it. His shirt is wrinkled and has signs of loose threads at the seams from years of wear and work. His eyes crinkle in the corners, frown lines litter his forehead. 

“I hope your wish comes true,” you reply, meaning it. The ghost shakes his head.

“It won’t, but thank you.” 

“So why do you keep wishing if you know it won’t come true?”

“Just in case.”

Just in case. 

“My wishes never come true,” you confess. “But I can’t stop myself from coming out here anyways, I can’t help but feel the pull.” The ghost nods his understanding.

“Just in case.”

“Just in case.” Your eyes lock with his, and for a moment, you feel the world stop spinning. You feel time freeze. Everything slows, blurs, disappears, until it is just you and him.

“Who are you?” He whispers, brows furrowing.

“I don’t know anymore,” you reply. “Who are you?” You barely even hear the words as they leave your lips.

“I’m trying to remember.”

I am discontinuing my taglist. please follow @lunarbucklibrary and turn on notifications to be notified when I post new fics.

#jane’s writing #anything everything #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fluff #bucky x reader #James bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fic #marvel fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes marvel #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #fem!reader #marvel fanfiction #James buchanan barnes #the winter soldier x yn #the winter soldier fanfiction

[brewed-pangolin]

Tailgate Movie Night

Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish x Fem Reader

Synopsis: You and Soap take advantage of a warm summer's night to hit the drive-in. Yet halfway through the film, your attention gets pulled to a more tranquil scene before you.

Warnings: None. Fluffs galore.

You couldn’t have asked for a better night if you begged for it. The warm summer air cooled with a gentle breeze that came in the moment the sun descended below the distant horizon. A crystal clear night. The dark, black expanse of the sky blanketed in countless stars, so many you were unable to discern the distinct formation of your favorite constellations within them.

And popcorn. So. much. Popcorn.

As you made your way through the vast jungle of parked cars, you let your mind wander and take in the sights and sounds around you.

The endless parade of movie goers lining up at the concession stand.

A series of high-pitched screams of children scurrying around the grass laden parking lot.

And the delicious aroma of salted butter filling your sinuses as you made your way back to your parking spot. Needing both hands to cradle the massive paper bag of popcorn your lover always insisted on during movie nights.

And you obliged, as always. Movie theater popcorn was, after all, his guilty pleasure. And you were certainly not going to deny Soap MacTavish of his most prized culinary obsession.

As you continued to meander through the last line of parked cars, your eyes finally caught sight of Soap’s other most prized obsession; his 4Runner.

Your lips involuntarily curled into a smile as you watched him make the last-minute touches to the back of the compartment. Transforming a typical cargo hold into a full-blown comforting sanctuary.

Built in air mattress. Pillows set up against the backseat and sides of the trunk. And a plethora of blankest set out at your disposal. In other words, perfect.

“Lookin’ good, Johnny,” you called out with a grin permanently etched onto your lips.

“Aye. Jus’ need one more thing,” Soap replied, reaching over the backseat to grab the cooler and a six pack of Irn Bru.

“You splurgin’ tonight. Aren’t ya, love?”

“I earned it, lass. Got the botched crest to prove it,” he answered with a head tilt and a smirk.

The chunk of hair missing from his distinctive mohawk more visible in the dim light and the peach fuzz of new hair growth just beginning to cover the scar left by the grazed bullet.

“It’s an interesting look, Soap. Got a bit of a, I don’t know, Stegosaurus vibe to it.”

“Shut it, lass.”

“Why don’t you just shave it?”

Soap fell silent. Immediately shooting you a playfully repulsed glare and grabbing at the immense bag of popcorn from your hands.

“Away n’ biel yer heid.”

“Yeah. Fuck you too, babe.” You smiled brightly back at him, climbing into the back to take your place snuggled up next to him.

Not even thirty minutes into the movie, you reached over into the giant bag of popcorn nestled between you and found it to be nearly completely empty. Cupping a few straggling upopped kernels into your hand, you glanced over and took in the blissful sight before you.

Soap MacTavish. Your Johnny. Fast asleep against the pillow next to you.

In normal circumstances, you would jab into his side and rile him up to keep him awake. But now, with how peaceful he looked, you wouldn’t dare stir him from his whimsical slumber.

Instead, you turned your attention from the film on the oversized outdoor screen to the tranquil scene of calmness beside you. Lightly tracing your fingers along the top of his scalp as you laid on your side, ever so slowly running your fingers through the remnants of his mohawk as he breathed steadily within the grip of deep sleep.

Soap always had trouble sleeping at night. Whether it be from the nightmarish memories of his previous deployments, or new found fears he had only just begun to conjure up within his mind, sleep always seemed to perpetually dance around taunt him, no matter how hard he tried to give in.

But here, in the back of his 4Runner and amongst a crowd of movie goers and intricate white noise, he could find peace. And you’d be damned if you did anything to take that away from him.

You felt a slight tinge of embarrassment at how easily you fell in love with watching him sleep. And guilty, a sense that somehow you were almost stealing these precious moments of rest from him. Taking advantage of his unconscious vulnerability for your own selfish need to witness and cache these serene moments for yourself.

And you did.

As the dim light of the drive-in danced across his dreamlike expression, you shifted all focus and attention from the film to bask in the tranquility that was him.

Laying your head on his chest to lose yourself in the rhythmic cadence of his heart. A gentle smile curling into your lips as you felt the groggy movement of his arm behind you, pulling you in closer with a sleepy groan.

The world slowly began to melt away as you both enjoyed the closeness of one another. Low, rumbling vibrations of the films soundtrack rolling through the hull of the vehicle, eliciting a muffled giggle as your mind recalled a more robust vibration Soap preferred in the back of his 4Runner.

"What's s'funny, hen?" Soap managed through a drowsy whisper. Tilting his chin down to tenderly kiss the top of your forehead.

"Nothin'. Just enjoying the moment, love."

"Mhmm. Yer a terrible liar, lass."

Your smile widened, looking up to meet the cerulean fire of his eyes draped behind heavy lids. His signature mischievous grin telling all you needed to know about his full intentions for the night.

And you were more than happy to put on a show for him. Appreciating his decision to park in the back as you both created your own soundtrack for the night.

4Runner Wingman Masterlist

@deadbranch @sofasoap @d3athtr4psworld @punishmepunisher @jynxmirage @homicidal-slvt @glitterypirateduck @mykneeshurt @astraluminaaa @shotmrmiller @writeforfandoms @obligatoryghoststare @haurasha @havoc973 @macravishedbymactavish @ang3lc @luismickydees

#super soap sunday #soap squad #soap squad 🧼 #4Runner Wingman #tailgate movie night #dont come knocking if the 4Runner be rockin #johnny soap mactavish #john soap mactavish #soap mactavish #john mactavish #soap x you #soap x reader #soap fluff #soap x f reader #soap cod #call of duty #cod #cod fanfic #cod series

[nelyos-right-hand]

I honestly don't think that elves get reembodied without their scars. I have three reasons for that:

1. The new hröa is made from the memory of the fëa. So they might not have scars from wounds they acquired shortly before their deaths, but the fëa should remember the other ones.

2. I don't think that's how Mandos works. It helps the fëa *heal* from its wounds, but it doesn't just *erase* them, just like it doesn't erase all those years of battle and hardship. Some wounds heal without a trace, but others leave scars, so reembodiement elves will still be irrevocably changed, and since the hröa and fëa mirror each other the same should apply to the body. Scars are a sign of survival, of all the things you went through and still lived. I think elves might even feel uncomfortable in perfect new bodies that seem to completely ignore the hardship of their previous lives.

3. Let's be honest. It's just so much cooler. And I'm not just talking about Maedhros with his badass I'm-super-terrifying-and-one-of-the-greatest-warriors-to-ever-live-now-run-for-your-life-look. Think of Fingolfin and Fingon with the battle scars acquired in four-hundred years of fighting Morgoth, and Celegorm, Curufin and Amrod with burn scars from the Bragollach (and *other* incidents). I just don't see them walking in Tirion looking all perfect and harmless again.

#silmarillion #the silmarillion #tolkien #maedhros #fingon #fingolfin #celegorm #curufin #amrod #halls of mandos #namo mandos #valinor #feanorians #sons of feanor #tolkien elves #lotr elves #elves #my post

[neonthewrite]

The Office Fae

The next prompt was Tangled, and I ended up with a brand new character for this one. He's fun so far. I'm enjoying his very gremlin energy. I hope you all like him too!

~~~

Life in an office building generally worked well for Simon, despite technically being a house fae. The rules could be fuzzy on that front, with so many humans coming and going every day. Sure, there wasn’t a singular family loving the place and cherishing their lives there, but a lot of humans from many families liked the building and their jobs there well enough to make the energy inviting. Something about flexible hours, good wages, and a solid benefits package made for a harmonious office with plenty of memories–some friendly, some dramatic, even some spicy memories.

Plus there was a vending machine. Simon came for the vibes originally, but he absolutely stayed for the vending machine. At a modest five and three quarter inches tall, he had easy access to a good variety of things in portions that lasted him days.

Another house fae rule he bent–it wasn’t precisely a bowl of cream left out for him specifically, but nobody could expect that these days. Keeping the vending machine stocked was close enough, and if the light bulbs and printer cartridges in the building all lasted longer than they should, well, Simon earned his keep. He probably saved them hundreds on the annual operations budget.

Work always slowed down around the end of winter, aside from some buzzing over in the accounting office. All the holiday parties were done and the potluck food all taken home from the break room fridges. Simon planned for it and handled it well, though things could get cold with the shorter hours and heat on less to make up for the emptier office.

To that end, Simon wintered in the ceiling of the server room. The servers, bulkier and taller than a human, stood clustered in a side room and were never turned off. Blinking lights of green and red and blue twinkled on each machine, colors filtering into the ceiling along with the ample warmth those hulking obelisks gave off.

With so much downtime, he found himself perched near an opening in the ceiling, a spot where the tile had broken off long ago, and watched the server lights flicker on the tangled mess of multicolored cables that ran between them. It was a game of his to trace each cable from end to end with his eyes, idly kicking his bare, grey-skinned feet (his skin had shifted to a tasteful, cool grey a few years ago after an office refresh had updated all the paint). Long, slender fingers absently braided silky hair the color of faded ballpoint ink while he scanned the cables with eyes reminiscent of the shocking, dreaded blue of a computer on its way out.

Most house fae took on colors in equal parts camouflage and defense. Simon would be tough to spot if he happened to be out in the open near a human, but if someone did see him, humans never liked seeing that blue. So his eyes would probably protect him.

Not that he ever intended to test that. As much as he liked his many many humans and their water cooler chatter, Simon was realistic. They wouldn’t like him much even if he shared their scale. All his features were a bit elongated, just enough to seem strange and other. He only wore flowing pants made of scrap fabric and he ate bugs sometimes. Humans would call him scary or freaky or any number of words they had for things they didn’t like, and if his eyes couldn’t scare them off he’d be in danger of a rolled up magazine or a dusty phone book.

He’d stayed hidden for a long time, and he anticipated many games of look-at-cables in his future, all without humans being a bother.

Of course, until they were a slight bother anyway. Simon paused his movements and tensed when the door opened abruptly. Light flooded in and he lost track of the cable he was tracing when he looked over, grateful for his higher vantage point and the human tendency to ignore background details.

Two figures stood there, one familiar and one not. One was Tom, a human whose limbs gangled a bit but whose middle had padded out after so many years in a desk job. His bald spot glowed with light from the hallway, and his rumpled t-shirt sported a band name Simon thought he recognized. From what Simon knew, Tom was every bit an IT master and a vital cog in keeping the office running smoothly. He didn’t have to dress any higher than casual.

The other human was a new face. A woman, probably younger than Tom by a couple decades. Her dark skin contrasted with his pale complexion. Her hair, coily and thick, grew longer atop her head though it was tapered close at the sides. She wore a smart blouse and slacks, which Simon immediately recognized as the sort of thing one wore to a job interview, or one’s first day at work.

Tom waved a hand at the servers whirring away in the room. “Servers in here. Probably not gonna need to be in here a ton, but y’know. If something needs a reset…”

The woman nodded and smiled faintly as she scanned the room. “What are the chances I can fix up some of those cables?”

She said it as a joke. Simon didn’t find it funny at all. Tom did. He laughed. “Now that I get someone to pass tasks like that along to, I imagine I can convince the bossman to let me schedule a maintenance day. Now, let’s get you some of your equipment…”

The door closed and the humans walked away, and Simon cared not at all for their conversation or the rest of the onboarding for this new IT interloper. She wanted to organize the cables, which simply would not do. Simon stalked back to his makeshift camp to get his pack.

This new hire was simply not a good fit, and he’d do what he could to stop her horrible plan.

#gtjuly #gtjuly2023 #mywriting #simon the office fae #gt #g/t #giant tiny

[oliveroctavius]

Let's look briefly at the Coffee Bean in Spider-Man comics!

Contrary to popular memory, Peter's college pals initially met up at a diner called the Silver Spoon (ASM 44, but also 46, 52, possibly 125).

The spread at the top of this post takes a lot from this place's layout. But as newcomer MJ might have pointed out, diners are so fifties. The modern teen needed someplace cooler and edgier to hang out. Somewhere more underground. Literally.

Maps place The Coffee Bean alternately in East Village or Tribeca. The beret and glasses? The lowercase Dante's Inferno quote? The wall-hung guitar? So hipster. Wait, wrong decade. So beatnik.

The OG Bean didn't show up much more frequently than the Silver Spoon (ASM 53, 59, and 82, most notably), but it's the one that stuck in the cultural imagination. I enjoy Tim Sale's take in Spider-Man: Blue with the unfinished basement look and cult film posters.

In early modern flashbacks, the location is plagued by a specific continuity problem: "then [character] leaps through the WINDOW!" from new writers who missed the fact that it's below ground. In ASM Annual '96, JRSr complies by raising the ceiling a level!

The Sensational Spider-Man Annual's approach to the Coffee Bean makes me a bit sad. Dialogue repeatedly emphasizes its unique character and long history and how well MJ knows the place. But it's drawn aboveground and totally generic. (This from an issue with a dozen Silver Age panels directly traced!)

It's not the first time that happens, but here feels like a critical failure of show-don't-tell. The eventual window smash is worth it, but... I'd argue this would work better set at the Silver Spoon (where MJ actually met the gang, old in an uncool way, aboveground) instead.

Brand New Day reestablishes a solid sense of place for the Coffee Bean. Brick and glass entryway, a logo that's less beatnik and more Starbuck, and an interior that reminds me of a Panera Bread.

(If it's supposed to be canon that the new more corporate look is due to renovations by Harry, that's been lost in the shuffle. But it would make sense to me. His effort at impressing Norman with a plan to make the Bean a chain store circa ASM 569 would extend his trend of editorializing his own memories.)

While it still teleports between Astor Place and Tribeca, this version has now had more consistent (and just more) appearances than the original. And, of course, it has a beautiful bank of windows to—

Ah, that's more like it.

The Coffee Bean has become a symbol of innocent nostalgia and a happier past. It was also (as designed by Romita Sr) a virtual bunker: not until 1977 would superheroics be written to take place inside the Coffee Bean. (ASM Annual #11—Romita Jr's first ever penciling job on Spider-Man, interestingly.)

As a silver age icon, the location was physically safe and interruption-free in a way that even Peter's apartments and Aunt May's house couldn't be. The architecture—and how it's changed—has been a large part of that symbolism, underappreciated as it sometimes is.

#long post #thank you for coming to ollie's deep dive of the week if anything here is wrong go ahead and add on #the coffee bean #coffee bean gang #down with the sliding timescale #images undescribed

[pyjamaart]

A looming presence... (A piece of fan art for Episode 11 of the Christmas Comeback Crisis)

Read more for an essay on all the memes and references ;)

So here it is. Finally. Only one month too late: This piece of CCC fan art I've worked on since the episode came out.

Sorry for the delay, but I just started at my new job this week and it's been a little stressful, so I didn't have much time to work on this. But now it's finally here!!! I gotta say, the hardest part by far was the background, lol. I didn't mean for it to escalate that much. At the end I was honestly running out of memes to draw.

I bet we can all agree that episode 11 of the Christmas Comeback Crisis was so worth the wait, right???? My god. Peak entertainment. I still can't believe I'm getting all this awesome lore and music for free, feels kinda criminal.

I'm so invested in this story, it's unreal. I can't wait to see how it will end. I can already tell it's gonna be pretty emotional. (And not to alarm anyone, but I have a slight feeling that the Voice is not gonna make it out of this story arc alive. I mean, after everything he's done, it's safe to say that he kinda deserves it. Of course I really don't want him to die, cause that would mean…….. Woodman would also have to die??? Otherwise the Voice will just keep coming back again and again because Woodman is keeping his memory alive…….. Oh man wait a moment….. I don't even want to think about that. Forget I said anything about this.)

Anyway, let's talk about this piece of art for a moment.

In the foreground, we have our brave protagonists. I really really like how Nozomi turned out, so I decided to make her my new icon from now on. Don't get me wrong, I love my old icon, but it's kinda zoomed out and you can't really make out any details when it's really small. So Nozomi it is. Meta Knights sword was shockingly difficult to draw, especially because I had to figure out how to draw it when he's holding it at an angle like that. Otherwise, drawing him was actually one of the easiest things about this whole thing. His design is really just two circles with some arms and armor. Figuring out how the circle tool in Gimp works has never felt this good. (Kinda crazy I can just draw him like this now, considering how obsessed with him I was when I was about 12-13 years old. Back then you had to download official renders of your favorite characters onto your computer, then print them out and hang them on your walls all around your room. Yeah I've always been like this.) Drawing Santa was really fun too, just his right hand was a little difficult. But that's just because I still can't draw hands in general. Maybe I should practice drawing hands more. (Naaaaaah I'm just kidding, I'll never do that.) Now that I'm looking at him again, he's also longingly staring at President Haltmann in the background. Doomed yaoi fr.

Speaking of the background, let's talk about that next. There's obviously the title-giving "looming presence" the Voice. I had his hands completely in the background at first, but I thought it looked cooler when they were hanging threateningly around Santa's shoulders. (You may ask yourself, 'man these hands look kinda alright for my usual hand drawing standards', and that is because I traced over pictures of my own hands. I love "cheating" at art.) I also gave him his stupid little bow tie and the colored buttons on his suit sleeves. Not only is that kinda my trademark for drawing him at this point, it's also supposed to show, that under all the threats and the evil villain persona, he's just kind of a loser. A real (male equivalent of a) girlfailure. That's why I made sure that half of the things shown in the background are there to make fun of him a little. I love the Voice dearly, but that's just what felt right.

And now let's get to the actual main course of this essay. I probably spent half the time working on this on the freaking background. I'm just gonna start in the top left corner and then go down each column and explain what each of these mean or what they reference. (Since there are some quite obscure ones in there.)

Let's start with the two ponies in the very top left. They're actually ponysonas of Nozomi Tojo (left) and Takane Shijou (right). Nozomi is an earth pony and has a tarot card as her cutie mark, specifically the ace of cups. Takane on the other hand is a unicorn and has some musical notes as her cutie mark, which you can't really see. I don't know enough about the Idolmaster to think of something more meaningful for her, sorry. ;)

Under that are Susie Haltmann and her father, President Haltmann. They were (after Woodman) the first characters I wanted to draw into the background. Susie has this black bar covering her face, since she was never really there to begin with. The whole story line with her father wanting to bring her back was actually so freaking sad. And when the Voice killed him in episode 11 and that image of Susie flashed on screen as the last thing he saw before he died….. Oof……… That's also why I drew that cursor looming next to her "window" about to click on the closing button. Haltmann himself is also the only character in the background to actually leave his little window, wanting to reach his daughter. He's also glaring at the Voice for causing him all of this grief and anger in the first place with his false promises.

Then there's…. ahem, "Hot robots in your area". With drawings of a random unnamed robot and Mettaton from Undertale. Which the Voice has apparently bookmarked. This is just a head canon, but I like to think he has a thing for robots, lol. ;)

Oh and on the left next to that on the very first column is Simpleflips' logo. Shoutouts to Simpleflips indeed.

Onto the next column. At the very top is Haruka Amami (also from the Idolmaster), who played a pretty huge role in the CCC, especially in the latest episode. That moment at the very end where she saved Grand Dad from certain death was just fantastic. Absolutely goated scene. She's kinda pressing her face against the window she's trapped in. I hope you can even see that from far away, haha.

Under that is one of the more obscure references. It's from a King for Another Day video, specifically one titled "The Hobart Hootenanny - SiIvaGunner: King for Another Day". It's a slideshow made of beautiful Hobart pictures. One that struck me personally the most was a little family picture of Hobart and the rapper Eminem, who was also a contestant in the KfAD tournament, looking lovingly over their son sitting in a cradle. Eminem is seen saying "Our son is beutiful". A truly touching photograph indeed. In that same slideshow is also another scene of Hobart together with the Voice, but we'll talk about that one later.

The next one is a reference to the CCC side story "I wanna thank me" and shows a pie chart with the election results that were discussed in that episode. Under the pie chart itself is a little box containing all the different parties and showing their respective percentages. On the left is a poster for the "Poké Poké Literature Party", showing Monika's head with the words "Just vote Monika" at the top of the poster. The words (and Misha.) are scribbled on the bottom, lest we forget that she's not running this party alone. This side story was first featured in the Christmas Comeback Crisis Watchalong in 2020, which was actually the first time I watched the CCC in its entirety. It all went downhill from there. ;)

Then there's the Voice's… thing? Object? Weird apparatus where no one really knows what it does or what its purpose is? Every time we see the Voice sitting in his office, this thing is sitting on his desk right next to him. There's been loads of jokes about its purpose. They've all been made before. I'm not going to repeat them. Only the Voice himself truly knows what this thing does. Probably. Could just be a decorative piece of art.

Then we have something veeeery self indulgent on the next column. It's Aquaman from Megaman 8 (With a not so subtle skull right next to him). You should all know by now that I'm the founding father of the Aquawood ship. And I also have the head canon that Woodman and the Voice are very divorced. Interpret into this whatever you want.

Next to Aquaman is the internets' favorite panel from the web comic Tails Gets Trolled. I fucking love that comic. If you haven't read it in its entirety, I highly recommend doing it. (Though be warned that it contains some pretty heavy topics, many many slurs and a plethora of gore.) Okay, maybe I don't recommend reading it. (Just read it with all of that in mind.)

Under that is a personal favorite joke of mine. It's supposed to be Spotify, with a playlist open that I created some time ago. I called it "Die Pizza Playlist" (Remember that die in German is just "the") which I always listen to when I'm baking my own pizza. Highlights include "Pizza" by Antilopen Gang, "Pizza Heroes" by Lemon Demon (You can actually see the album art for Spirit Phone on the left of the playlist.), "Pizza Pizza Pizza" from the Ratatouille musical and so on and so on. The first song in the playlist is obviously "We like pizza" by the Pizza kids, which is even playing in the image. On the side are two more music artists, at the bottom is the image for the Veggie Tales soundtrack, which also featured a song called "Pizza Angel". And over that is Mitski. I just feel like the Voice would listen to her music. Do not question me on this.

The audience laughs at the funny 7.

On the Voice's left shoulder sits a single green bean. It's flashing you a cheeky grin and a peace sign. While I didn't intend for this to happen, I accidentally referenced my own Woodman birthday gallery art from two years ago, where the bean also sits atop the Voice's shoulder. I know that next to "Yankin'", the bean is one of the most hated memes on SiIva, but I think he's just a silly little guy! :D

Let's head on over to the next column. Seems like the Voice has an incoming call from one of his guards, but he's ignoring it as he has more important things to do, like hovering intimidatingly over Santa Claus.

Next to that window on the right are the Voice's messages. I almost wrote "messanges". That would have been embarrassing, thank god I caught that in time. This is also (yet again) a little self indulgent, since the Voice apparently has the last message he sent Woodman pinned to the very top of his messenger app. His big triangular head is blocking most of it, but since I'm the artist, I can tell you exactly what it says: "Please call me back", which was sent on February 1st 2023, the day "The Disappearance of Woodman" was released. Yeah, I'm still very upset, how could you tell? :( Under that is a message to his trusty pizza guy asking for a pizza with extra cheese.

Next we have two of my favorite memes on the SiIvagunner channel (My absolute favorite being "Funny budots", since I never wrote that down anywhere.), one being Frisk Undertale becoming uncanny and the other one being the goat. I don't really know how to describe the goat, but apparently it was crafted by the same artist who made the stoned fox that's also very popular online?? I may just be stupid, but I didn't know about that until I looked up a reference for the goat. Since it often appears alongside Undertale and Deltarune, many have made the assumption that this is what Asriel would look like in real life. That's why Flowey is there next to it with an equal sign. Whoever drew up that calculation wasn't really sure of their work, which is why they drew a question mark right next to it. Between Frisk and the goat is a little Soul, also from Undertale/Deltarune.

Onto the next column, where I'm dropping very subtle hints that a specific character in this image might like pizza. Or might even be a little obsessed with it. On the left is a list with the contact details of three well known pizza chains, on the very top is Sonic the Hedgehog who just recently became a brand ambassador for Totino's and on the bottom right of this section is a flyer for some kind of pizza sale.

The next window contains my favorite joke of any rip on the entire SiIvaGunner Youtube Channel. "Peepoona 5. Let us shart the pants." Just typing this out is making me die of laughter yet again. (The rip in question is "Our Beginning - Persona 5".) But as you all know, I am very into toilet humor. That's why Aquaman is one of my favorite robot masters. And why I'm such a big fan of Youtube Poop. And why I watch Minion fart gun religiously. But enough of that, you get what I'm trying to say. I love funny poop jokes. That's why this is here.

Oh man. This next one is why I wanted to write this very detailed essay in the first place. A reference so obscure, even I can't find its origin anymore. And believe me, I tried. Thankfully, I took a screenshot of the original comment thread this was based on. A user called "The New Guy" commented on a SiIvaGunner rip, something along the lines about how much they enjoyed this specific rip. At the time, the comment had 920 likes, so I'm guessing it must have been a pretty popular video. (The comment should also be about 4 years old now?) Anyway, under that comment, someone asks them what their profile picture was from. They simply answered "wagon", since that was exactly what their profile picture showed. Someone on the SiIvaGunner team must have found this exchange so funny that they commented "wagon" as well. And that's the origin of this joke. If anyone knows which rip this is from pleeeeaaaase tell me. I need to know.

I don't think I need to explain who the next guy is. Just the love of my life. I specifically drew Woodman in his getup from the Nuclear Winter Festival, since that was the last time he appeared on the channel. He's looking kinda concerned in the general direction of the viewer, for obvious reasons. And right under him is his trademarked >:] emoji.

And last but certainly not least, the final column! Now I finally get to talk about this other scene from the Hobart Hootenanny. It shows Hobart and the Voice having a romantic stroll at a beautiful beach, while the sun is slowly setting in the background, making the water shimmer with its breathtaking colors. Okay, the last thing didn't really happen, since it's a shitty MS Paint drawing, but I like to imagine it did. Maybe I should draw a remake of this image one day. Now I'd like to quote the video in question: "A man and Hobart were walking together on the beach. He looked back and saw that in his times of sadness and need, there was only one set of footprints. He asked Hobart why he would leave him in his time of most need. Hobart simply turned to the man and said, VVVVVRRRRR SRRRRR RRRRGGGHHHH--" (Thank you SiIva Wiki for the transcription.) Now I don't think I need to explain why I drew Hobart in a bikini top and fishnets. The question answers itself.

The next image is actually quite easy to explain. It's mm5charge and smol Maki. In another universe, Chargeman and Maki might have been integral to the SiIvaGunner lore. This specific image is just stolen from my piece of fan art called "Megaman 5 Brainrot (featuring Acidman)", which I posted in 2022. I still head canon that Megaman and Love Live take place in the same universe. Just because I think it's funny. And because I want to see funny robot masters interact with the girlies from Love Live. How do I explain this? It's like…. balancing out the world? The robot masters are almost all male (with a few exceptions) and the characters shown in Love Live are all female. How would Thanos say? "Perfectly balanced, as all things should be." Don't question my cool head canons, okay?

After that we have a poster featuring the Jazz Cats! I really really love the little animations that showed their backstory when KfAD2 first came out. I don't know if it's okay for me to say this, but I also really really enjoy the song "But Not You" written (in universe) by Doge and Naxx. The text is veeeeeeery questionable, but man, does it sound good regardless… And shoutouts to wolfman1405 for the heavenly vocals.

On the right of that is a missing poster for Wade L.D.. Nothing much to explain here I guess.

Left of that is the Voices shopping list, which lists flour, oil, yeast… Wait a minute…. All of these are ingredients for pizza dough! Guys, I'm beginning to think that this guy might like pizza.

On the very bottom of this column is Mario 7 Grand Dad himself, who has his hostile gaze directed at the Voice. I would be pissed off too if someone kept me locked in a glass tube for 7 years.

The last little window just shows the Vineshroom with the words "fecal funny" written under it.

And with that, it is done. The entire background thoroughly explained. (I may have gone a little overboard this time.)

It's been a while since I posted new art, huh? In the meantime, a lot has happened. As I said before, I started a new job, got a tattoo of Woodman on my leg (best idea I've ever had btw) and I also started watching MLP, which explains the Love Live / Idolmaster ponysonas, lol.

And that's all I wanted to say. I hope that the next piece of art isn't that far off. Jenny out. (I think this might have been the longest essay I've ever written here. I'm so sorry. By which I mean, I'm not sorry at all. I'm not forcing anyone to read this.)

#welp im one month too late #but better late than never #i put my giant ass essay under the read more this time #open with caution its extremely fucking long because i got a little carried away #siivagunner #the voice inside your head #santa claus #nozomi tojo #smol nozomi #meta knight #president haltmann #susie haltmann #thats it im not tagging all of these guys #christmas comeback crisis #if you saw this posted to the wrong blog no you didnt #jumpscaring kirby fans with siivagunner art is my favorite hobby

[kumeko]

A/N: For the @kairizine! Since it was flower-language themed, I went with: Sweetbrier (simplicity, wound to heal), Star of Bethlem (atonement, reconciliation), Spindle Tree  (your image is engraved on my heart). The amazing @mellekist drew spot art for this fic, please check them out!

…

…

…

…

i.

The air was clear. Kairi gazed across the calm waters separating the mainland from Destiny Islands. When she had been younger, the distance had felt enormous, as wide as an ocean. Now she knew it as a small channel, a short canoe paddle away. The islands were close enough that she could spot the spindle trees that dotted the hills, the docks and the pirate ship that hadn’t crumbled over time. A breath, and she smelled the acrid flowers, the musty wooden planks, the salty sea breeze. Straining her ears, she barely heard children’s laughter as small figures raced one another across the white sands, repeating scenes from her own childhood.

If she squinted, she could see herself running too, her short hair tickling her neck as she tried to keep up with two reckless boys. Kairi, they called, turning around—

“Really?” Selphie broke her thoughts as she followed Kairi’s stare and rolled her eyes. She snorted delicately before taking a lick of her blue popsicle, her lips and tongue already taking on an icy hue from the frozen treat. In the hot summer sun, she had rolled up her sleeves before she could make a mess of them. “Do you have to stare every time we pass?”

“I can’t help it,” Kairi replied, reluctantly tearing her eyes away from the islands. The image was gone, the two boys fading with every passing second. There had been a time when Selphie was eager to visit the islands all summer long, but that was years ago. Now, they were no longer children. Now, they were on the cusp of adulthood, between fish and fowl, and Selphie was more than eager to let go of that part of her past.

“Don’t get me wrong, I get it.” Selphie waved her free hand before raising her popsicle for another lick, stopping the melting treat from turning her fingers into a sticky mess. She glanced at Kairi from the corner of her eyes. “The islands are fun and so much better than boring homework.”

That wasn’t the reason Kairi still visited them, but she hummed along nonetheless.

“Still,” Selphie continued, scrunching her nose slightly. “Aren’t they kinda…I dunno, childish? I mean, only kids play there.”

“I guess…” Kairi shifted uncomfortably and tugged her collar, letting in the cool breeze. Their summer uniforms did little to relieve them from the heat, and she wanted to be in a canoe, to sit in the water and let the cooler air surround her. Or better yet, on a raft, the wind playing with her hair, her hand tracing the sea. “It’s not like I want to play, though.”

Selphie raised her brow, forgetting her popsicle entirely. “Then what do you do there?”

“Just…” Kairi mulled over it, trying to find the right word. “Cleaning.”

Her friend snorted, doubling over with laughter. “Cleaning? You? Have you seen your room?” She wiped the tears from her eyes, still chuckling. “You even trick our classmates into cleaning the classroom for you. You’re so lazy.”

Lazybones.

You’re both lazy.

A memory, unbidden, rattled off. The two boys turned to look at her, the sun blinding her eyes. Kairi froze, trying and failing to grasp their faces, their names. Riku and S—but it didn’t stick, blue eyes turning into the water the second she blinked.

She forced a laugh. “I know. It’s weird.”

How could she explain it to Selphie when she couldn’t even explain it to herself? There was a memory of starlight, of tears, of someone asking her to wait. A promise etched in chalk. Darkness swallowing Riku. A smile as bright as the sun. There was a gap in her memories, in everyone’s memories. An empty space that left behind too many remembrances to just be a dream.

“I just have to,” Kairi continued, with a certainty she felt down to her core. She had promised to stay, so she would. The caves would be cleaned, the old spots would be left untouched, and she would wait.

Kairi was a protector, if only for these childhood places, these lost memories.

ii.

It was strange walking on Destiny Islands. Keyblade in hand, Kairi walked her old haunts—the beaches, the cave, the ship. Jamais vu, Selphie had called it, a sense of unfamiliarity in the familiar. Kairi knew all of these places like the back of her hand, yet they felt different, almost scary, now. Her memories had returned, and with it the monsters that lurked in the dark.

As Kairi passed through the cave, she brushed her hand against the wall. This was where it had all started: the Heartless, the Keyblade, the door to other worlds. Where Riku had fallen and Sora had risen and the door between worlds had opened. There were no signs of that anymore, just faded drawings on a cave wall, just litter from children sneaking out treats from beneath their parents’ noses. Even her paopu drawing was smudged, newer drawings taking over it bit by bit.

Try as she might, her Keyblade could not open another door, could not bridge a path from her world to the next. The cave remained a cave. The islands remained isolated. And Kairi remained behind, as she always had.

She sighed as she spun on her heel, meandering a well-trodden path down to the beach, her eyes glued to the clear, blue skies. A war was being fought out there, Sora and Riku keeping the darkness at bay. Not that anyone could tell from here. There wasn’t even a cloud in the sky. Across the still waters, her hometown looked as peaceful as ever.

No, not her hometown—she did not come from there.

It was still home nonetheless.

It was still hers nonetheless.

Kairi gripped her Keyblade tightly. Sweetbrier grew at the dune edges, the wild roses bordering the sand as though to keep it out. Beauty and thorns; she admired their strength and wished it were her own. A gentle breeze blew, her long hair falling over her eyes. She pushed it back, looping the strands behind her ear, remembering that once those hairs had tickled her neck instead of reaching her lower back.

It was funny to be here again, to be waiting. It was like nothing had changed since that starry night years ago, when she had reached out desperately to Sora as they parted worlds. Or when she had gathered driftwood during high school, her body falling into old patterns that her mind had forgotten.

Kairi stopped by the low-arching tree, running her fingers across the trunk. The three of them had sat here, once upon a time, imagining distant shores.

“We found out what’s out there,” she said aloud. “Didn’t even need a raft to get off this island.” Her nails dug into the bark. “You didn’t come back with me.”

Her words were met with silence. Riku and Sora were still on those faraway planets and she was still waiting at home.

The Keyblade in her hand warmed, reminding her that not everything was the same. Sora was no longer forgotten, Riku was found, and she had her own weapon in this ongoing war.

Wordlessly, she raised her blade as though to challenge. Let the monsters come—they would find this place would not easily succumb. Let the monsters know that there was a light in this patch of the universe, that the darkness would broker no hold here.

Let Sora and Riku fight across the universe, let them alter the course of worlds and fate. That was not her war. Kairi would protect their home, their haven, their memories.

And when her boys returned, bloody and broken and weary, she would protect them.

iii.

There came an end to every story, to every battle and war. A happily-ever-after, if you were lucky, and a final chapter if not. Of course, it was the case here, in this story of light and darkness, of princesses and fate.

The light had won. The shadows were gone. The war was over. Worlds were back in place, and so were the people displaced by years of loss and bloodshed. A key turned somewhere, a satisfying click that signaled that everything was done.

And at the end of it all, Kairi stood on the beach once more, her bare feet digging into the warm sand. Above her: a bright sun, stray white clouds drifting lazily with the breeze. Waves lapped the shore, the water choppy as though it too wanted to celebrate this moment. Tiny stars of Bethlehem grew stubbornly against the rocks and craggy grasses, their white flowers straining toward the sun.

Once again, Kairi was back on Destiny Islands, surrounded by her familiar haunts.

Once again, she was staring out into the distance, looking at her home.

Once again, she had her two boys by her side. Riku’s large palm utterly engulfed her own, and Sora’s skin was sweaty as he gripped her other hand tightly. The Keyblades were gone, the worlds at peace, and Kairi closed her eyes as she let herself just feel. The last time they had done this, they had been younger and shorter and oh so innocent. Her hair had reached her chin, Sora had been her height, and Riku had been cocky enough to take on the gods. Their eyes had ever been on distant seas, on horizons unknown.

Now she could feel the strength in their hands, calloused and rough from fighting. Kairi peeked at them—not that she had to. They were too distracted to notice her stare.

“It’s just like how I remembered,” Sora said quietly, too quietly. It was strange to have him so calm, his smile muted. He sounded almost shell-shocked. Part of her expected him to tug her, to race across the sands to the docks, but he didn’t move a muscle.

For once, Riku did not mock him. He merely grunted, his hand squeezing Kairi’s in agreement. He didn’t move either, except to turn his head this way and that, processing everything.

“The ship’s still there,” Sora added, swallowing hard as he watched three kids climb the mast.

“Where would it go?” Riku said bluntly, but there was no bite in his words. His gaze was locked on the docks, as though he had forgotten what they looked like.

“And the tree!” Sora continued, still whispering, still awestruck.

It was like watching blind men given sight, parched travellers drinking from an oasis. Their hands didn’t leave hers no matter where they turned.

I saved it all, Kairi didn’t say. I kept your memories, she didn’t remind. There was a time and place for everything, and unlike in her younger days, Kairi had learned to control her need to boast.

This wasn’t the time for glory.

No, this was the time for healing, for remembrances, for simply being. They were together again, and there would be plenty of days ahead for her to fill them in on exactly what she had been doing over the years.

“There’s more,” Kairi said, breaking the silence with a bright smile. She glanced at Sora, at Riku, and squeezed their hands. When they squeezed back, she took a step forward, gently leading them down familiar paths. “The caves, your rooms, our canoes—they’re all still here.”

It was like she’d pulled a trigger. Sora picked up the pace, pulling her forward eagerly. “Race you to the docks.”

“Is it a race if you always lose?” Riku taunted, keeping up with him.

Kairi burst into laughter as they all but dragged her into their competition, their hands still clinging to hers like a lifeline.

Her boys were home.

Her wait was over and they were home.

#kh kairi #kingdom hearts #kh sora #kh riku #kairi & sora & riku #fanfic

[kueble]

Catch Me If You Can

Written for the "Swim" prompt for @witchersummercamp.  This was a collaboration with @mysticcoyoteart and their post is here.

Teen. Warnings: Skinny dipping. 1,600 words.

Geraskier

---

"I think I might be melting," Jaskier groans out, and Geralt pretends he hasn't been watching him carefully for the past hour.  It's not his fault that Jaskier is stupidly gorgeous, all tanned skin and pouty lips and a tiny little bow centered right above his supple ass.

"Hmm," Geralt replies, which may not be his best work, but it seems to placate Jaskier.  Besides, Geralt is too busy following a drop of sweat as it slowly slides down the side of Jaskier's neck.  He wonders what it would feel like to trace the same path with his tongue and can feel his cheeks heating up from more than just the sun.

"You mock me, but I truly fear this is the end of your bard," Jaskier mumbles before grabbing his chemise by the laces and flapping it weakly against his chest.  "This fabric is nearly soaked through with sweat, and my waterskin is completely empty.  Please remember me fondly."

"Of course," Geralt agrees, which just earns him a side-eyes glare.  He smirks back, used to Jaskier's moods by now. Though he does have a point today.  Geralt's own leather armor is brutal, and he would surely be overheating if not for his mutagens.  If memory serves him right, there should be a lake nearby.  He just has to keep Jaskier occupied until they reach it.

"Did I ever tell you about that red dragon contract I took on when I was younger?  Her fire was almost as hot as the weather today," Geralt says coyly, and Jaskier spins on his feet to look at him with wide eyes.

"You most certainly have not!  But now I demand to know everything.  I hope you didn't kill her?" Jaskier rushes out, already speeding up his pace to match Geralt's.  Geralt rolls his eyes affectionately and starts telling the tale of the time he made friends with a red dragon who had been protecting her tiny babe from the curiosity of the nearby village.

Years of practice keep Geralt's voice steady as he tells his tale, even though his heart skips a beat whenever Jaskier's hand brushes against his.  They're close - far too close for this heat - and the bard never fails to cause a reaction in him.  He wonders what would happen if he just reached a little closer and threaded their fingers together, but he knows he doesn't deserve that.  No, Jaskier is worthy of someone far better than him.

Shoving those self-deprecating feelings down, Geralt focuses on the story of his contract gone wrong (or right if you ask the dragon).  Jaskier's excitement and unwavering attention never fails to make him feel shy, but Geralt thinks he is able to hide it well.  No one would notice how quickly his pulse is racing or how sweaty his palms are.  Besides, what kind of witcher would he be if he let one little bard get the best of him?

A witcher in love, apparently, but he ignores that like always.

By the time they reach the lake, Geralt can feel the sweat trickling down the back of his legs.  He's glad Jaskier insisted on braiding his hair back that morning, since it's pulled away from his face and has been helping keep him cooler.  Jaskier's chemise is completely see-through - much to Geralt's great dismay - and he's sure even Jaskier would notice the way he's been making eyes at him if he weren't so wrapped up in Geralt's story.

"What's? Oh! You've been distracting me, you rascal," Jaskier chirps, laughing as he spots the lake.  "I should have known, since you only ever offer stories when you want me quiet or occupied.  I'll forgive you for leading me here, though," he says, gesturing towards the crystal clear lake.  There is a small waterfall in the corner - almost more rocks than water - but it adds to the serene feeling of the place.

"Caught me," Geralt admits, chuckling as he holds his hands up in defeat.  Jaskier claps his hands together, giggling harder, and then starts tugging at his sweat-soaked clothing.

"Let's see you catch me, then, my dear witcher," he calls out before racing towards the water.  He leaves a path of abandoned clothing behind him, but Geralt is more interested in following the curve of his ass as he leaps into the lake.  Geralt frowns at himself, because the term of endearment has made him ever hotter than the sun ever could - and he forces himself to take his time stripping down.  

There's no use getting worked up over someone he can't have.  Because Jaskier is sunshine personified, and Geralt will surely melt if he gets too close. It's better off to keep his heart at a distance than to get his hopes up.  That only leads to disappointment and broken friendships.   Plastering a fake smile on his face, Geralt heads into the water.

Jaskier looks so different from this morning.  Gone is the sense of dread and the slow-movements caused by the oppressive heat.  Instead, he is damn near frolicking in the water, splashing around and taking advantage of the clear cool water.  He still looks like a wet dream personified - much to Geralt's dismay - and Geralt doesn't bother to fight the pull towards him.  He swims out to the middle of the lake, where Jaskier is floating on his back, his short hair spread out like a halo around his head.

"Refreshed?" Geralt asks as he swims up, and Jaskier just turns to beam at him.  The lake isn't too deep, and Geralt lets his feet sink into the muddy bottom.  Jaskier turns over onto his belly, still floating on top of the lake, and offers a crooked grin.

"I believe I suggested you catch me," he says, sticking his tongue out quickly before leaping away from him.  He paddles away, dipping down under the surface of the water, and Geralt rolls his eyes fondly before giving chase.

It turns out Jaskier is as slippery as an eel, and Geralt finds his fingers sliding off his heels more than once.  If he remembers correctly, Lettenhove is by the sea, which might explain why Jaskier is such a quick swimmer.  Still, Geralt didn't face the freezing waters of the lake outside Kaer Morhen for nothing.  He finds himself unable to stop grinning as he trails after Jaskier, the two of them splashing and racing across the whole lake in their efforts.

But Geralt eventually comes out on top.  The longer the chase goes on, the slower Jaskier gets.  Finally, he's able to wrap a hand around Jaskier's ankle and pull him to a stop.  The movement drags Jaskier underwater, and Geralt laughs openly when the bard pops up and spits a mouthful of water towards him.

He looks stunning in the afternoon sun, droplets of water running down his bare skin as he stands in front of Geralt.  His short hair is slicked back, leaving Geralt no buffer between him and those impossibly blue eyes.  It's as if something is pulling at him - some invisible thread tying them together - and Geralt finds himself moving closer before he realizes it.

"Looks like you've caught me," Jaskier whispers before wetting his lips and adding a soft, "What now?"

"I..." Geralt trails off, knowing his words are useless right now.  But Jaskier is looking at him like this ache in his chest might not be as hopeless as he thought.  He slowly leans in, giving Jaskier plenty of time to stop him, but the bard just stands there with an awed look on his face, and Geralt finally gets a taste of what he's been longing for.

The first press of their mouths together is tentative, just a gentle brush of lips, but it still sends a shiver down Geralt's spine.  He brings his hands up, one cupping the back of Jaskier's head and the other splayed across his chest.  Jaskier's mouth feels wet against his, and he chases the cold taste of the lake water, deepening the kiss.  Jaskier sighs into it, his fingers digging into Geralt's hips as their mouths move in tandem.

Geralt goes to pull back, but Jaskier kisses him hungrily, nipping at his bottom lip before licking into his mouth, and Geralt finds himself trapped in the best way possible.  Jaskier's body is solid against him, their legs tangled beneath the surface of the water, and he leans into him just to feel the warmth of his sun-kissed skin.  It's everything he's done his best not to imagine, and Geralt finds himself falling a little bit more in love with each soft brush of Jaskier's mouth against his own.

When they finally break apart, Jaskier is grinning like a mad man, and Geralt knows he must look just as ridiculous.  They stand there for a long moment, just breathing in each other's spaces, and Geralt tries to think of what to say.  But his tongue feels tied in knots, his mind blank except for thoughts of the man in front of him.

"If you were a fish, I wouldn't throw you back," Geralt says stupidly, cringing as soon as the words leave his mouth.  But Jaskier just laughs - head thrown back with glee - and clings to him tighter.

"How about we leave the love poems to me, and you focus on just being my muse?" Jaskier asks once he calms down.   There's a strange light in his eyes - a mix of hope and fear perhaps - and Geralt smiles warmly back at him.

"Love?"

"Yes, love," Jaskier murmurs before dragging Geralt into another kiss.

---

Art is HERE! Please go shout some love.

---

SFW Tags: @halerune @honeysuckletook @mayastormborn @dani-dandelino @feraljaskier @jaskierswolf @littoraly-art @tothedesert @dapandapod @theweirdlynx @tedrakitty @sharinalein @theamazingdevilgivesmehope @iamaqt314 @silvermintnightprincess @rockysstupidity @live-long-and-trek-on @hayleynzlive @holymotherwolf @thesynysterunknown @rebard-main @larawrmonster @gryffinqueen-blog @lovelyscot @fangirleaconmigo @mothmanismyuncle @fontegagrilledcheese @thestarkwinter @geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde @allthequeenshorses13 @221birl1823 @strippiluolamies @concussed-dragon @aurelia-which-means-sunrise @clarebear66 @feral-jaskier @j-u-s-tmyself​ @hayleynzlive @thisislisa @firefly-party @officerjennie

#geraskier #geralt x jaskier #my fic #witcher summer camp #collaboration #the witcher #the witcher fanfic #geralt #jaskier

[rupphiremoyo]

Some More Soft Yasammy Headcanons 

Yaz loves lying on top of Sammy when they cuddle. The feeling of Sammy's fingers combing through her hair and one arm slung protectively around her waist? Amazing. Combine that with the sound of Sammy's heartbeat lulling her into a light sleep and Yaz absolutely melts.

When the girls feel overwhelmed and lost in her memories of Isla Nublar, they'll stop what they're doing and just hold each other. Yaz will rub soothing circles on Sammy's scars from the Scorpios Rex attack and Sammy will kiss every inch of Yaz's face until they both feel safe and secure again.

Sammy once stumbled upon one of Yaz's old sketchbooks and found several drawings of herself in it. When she brought it up to her girlfriend, Sammy shyly said, "You made me look so pretty." To which Yaz replied, "You are so beautiful, I could never do you justice."

Yaz casually mentioned that she was running out of good songs to listen to while she runs, so Sammy spent hours making the perfect playlist for her girlfriend. Not only does Yaz listen to it every time she works out, but she'll have the biggest lovesick grin on her face as she listens to it.

Sammy is notorious when it comes to falling asleep on the couch. The girls could be watching a movie or having an Esther Stone marathon and it won't take long for Sammy to fall asleep on Yaz's shoulder or in her arms. Yaz finds it incredibly cute and will usher her sleepy Sammy to their bedroom for a good night's sleep.

These two will never shut up over the fact that they're dating. Like they will take any opportunity that is given to them to mention that they're girlfriends.

Sammy: "Have you met my amazing girlfriend, Yaz? Hold on one moment while I tell you all about my super talented and insanely pretty girlfriend—"

Yaz: "You see that stunning girl over there? The one who looks like the physical embodiment of sunshine? That's Sammy. My girlfriend."

Sometimes Yaz will pretend that she can't open jars and will hand them to Sammy just to see her open them with ease then immediately turn to brag and flex her arms. Does Yaz do this because she loves Sammy's smile? Yes. Does she also do this because she's obsessed with Sammy's country strong muscles? YES.

Sammy makes amazing hot chocolates. When the weather gets cooler or the girls have a late night sugar craving, Sammy will head to their kitchen to whip up some hot chocolate. All the while Yaz will be hugging her from behind and watching her girlfriend work her magic. (And if Yaz manages to sneak a few marshmallows, that's her business.)

These girls melt when they kiss. Like when their lips caress they'll feel warm all over and full of giddy excitement. They'll find any excuse under the sun to kiss each other and show how much they mean to each other.

When Yaz wraps her arms around Sammy's waist and pulls her in close for a tender kiss? Sammy is a goner. When Sammy traces the bottom of Yaz's lips with her fingers before gently tipping her chin up so she can lock their lips together? It's a TKO for Yaz.

At the end of the day, Yaz and Sammy are each other's favorite person. And despite the insane, dino-related circumstances that brought them together, they couldn't imagine their lives without each other in it. 🧡💜

#did someone request some more yasammy fluff?? #no just me? #well y'all are gonna get some soft yasammy headcanons anyways #because i love them #and i hope y'all love them as much as i do #i might work on some yasammy date headcanons in the future #but for now enjoy these soft gfs #yasammy #yaz x sammy #yasmina fadoula #sammy gutierrez #jwcc #camp cretaceous

[naffeclipse]

Hi again! I’m an anon who sent you a drabble a little while back. I happened to drabble again, this time about that AU idea I’ve seen circulating in your asks about Eclipse turning over a new leaf. This is set I guess a few months or so after his gang is taken down and he decides to play nice.

I believe this drabble ended up being longer than the last one… So please don’t feel obligated to respond! And if you’d prefer not to be sent future writings, just say the word. I wouldn’t want to clog up your inbox, and these are mostly written as warmups for me that I just thought I’d share <3

***

Warm, gentle fingertips play across your cheek. They trace along your nose, just under your eye, around your ear. It’s a wonderful sensation to wake up to, and the light caress doesn’t stop as you sigh deeply and smile.

There’s no natural light to filter in through your detectives’ bedroom, the curtains shut tight to keep the room doused in darkness. The cyan glow of their chamber prevents the room from being completely pitch black, but you’ve since grown accustomed to it that it doesn’t rouse you from your slumber. 

As such, it’s hard to tell what time of day it is. You could very easily figure that out by just opening your eyes and seeing which of your favorite detectives is keeping you cozy company, but that is far less fun than indulging in a little guessing game. You hum to yourself, savoring the soft glide of a finger to your lips at the sound. A brief thought of nipping at the robotic appendage crosses your mind, but you tamp down the urge—this time. You can feel your smile widening as the touch trails up along with it.

Hmm, there’s not much to go off of with the silence from your companion. You have a sneaking suspicion it isn’t Moon because you had gone to bed with him presumably not long ago for just a “quick nap” while the sun was beginning its descent. And he has a particular tendency to curl around your back. His hands are also much cooler than the one tracing your face, though he does get a bit bolder with his gentle displays of affection when you’re asleep.

You know this from the many times you’ve pretended to be asleep, just to feel him hold you close. One of your treasured memories is of the time he’d hesitantly taken your hand in his when he’d thought you were sweetly dreaming. The image of his deep blush flaring up when you’d interlocked your fingers with his will always stick with you. Adorable.

So, if it’s not Moon at your front, warm body pressed against your own under the comforter, it must be Sun.

Sun, who is much more inclined to wake you up in this manner as he’s done before. He’s claimed that it’s not his intent to stir you from your dreams, but you harbor a suspicion that he secretly wishes for it, if just to greet his day with a few minutes spent with you.

But… he only does that in the early morning hours, right when he’s about to leave for work. And surely you would have woken up long before then. You don’t recall being that tired.

Puzzled, you furrow your brow as your sleep-addled brain tries to play catch-up. You feel a bit like a detective yourself, laying out all the clues and trying to connect the dots.

One fingertip at your lips becomes two, and then they ease downward, curving under your chin. You recognize the request without even needing to wait for the gentle pressure to tilt your head up. It seems silly to waste time trying to figure out who’s silently asking for a kiss when you know full well you’d gladly grant one to either of your detectives any day. As you relax and lean into the touch, anticipating the familiar press of smooth metal teeth to your lips, something like awareness finally kicks in.

The hand that had lightly tipped your head up has now shifted to the back of your neck, and it is large. Much too large to belong to Sun or Moon, and that in itself makes it immediately recognizable.

You release a much more annoyed sigh, already knowing what to expect to see when you open your eyes, but it doesn’t make it any less appealing. Unamused, you glare at the former mafia boss who invades your space, his rows of jagged teeth curving upward like a delighted shark. Yellow optics squint merrily—cheekily—your way, and his mouth is much too close to your own as it bears far more pleased smugness than you’d like.

The momentary lapse in judgment can be chalked up to your vulnerable state of sleepiness, but you really shouldn’t have forgotten that the detectives’ estranged brother also frequented their place now. Or at least had the likelihood to visit whenever you came around, which was often.

You try not to think of the time you’d last been in bed with him—back when things were so different and terrifying. He’s making a true effort to change, but it doesn’t entirely eradicate the nightmares or memories that still haunt you. Things are improving, and the situation between you and him is… shifting, for lack of a better word or label that you’d rather not slap on it. But those are baby steps. And your relationship now is miles different from what it had used to be.

Eclipse shifts, his long, long legs bracketing your own and teasingly nudging them. You scowl and curl even tighter into a ball, which merely prompts a light chuckle.

“Good evening,” he murmurs.

Well, at least you got an answer for what time it is.

You wet your dry lips, an action that instantly snags his attention, and you have to fight the urge to roll your eyes. Instead, you smile sickly sweet and say, “You have two seconds to get out of my bed.”

“Oh, it’s your bed now, is it?” he returns, still looking too much like the cat who caught the canary. “Sunny and Moonie have given it over to you?”

“They don’t need a bed,” you press, not liking this line of questioning. “And neither do you, so like I said, get out.”

“Touchy touchy,” Eclipse huffs, rolling onto his back so he’s not caging you in. He pointedly does not move any further away though, and you almost growl.

It doesn’t look like you’ll be getting any more sleep at this point, but you’d only intended to lie down for a nap anyways, so the loss isn’t too terrible. You sit up and rub your eyes as you try to make sense of how this has become your life and why aren’t Detective Sun or Detective Moon storming into the room to save the day. 

The apartment is silent, as far as you can tell, aside from the quiet servos clicking away beside you. Odd. You would have thought at least one of the detectives would have stayed behind, especially if they knew Eclipse would be dropping in—

Ah.

You purposefully do not glare back down at the beaming animatronic as he’d no doubt enjoy it. He likes any and all attention you give him, enough that it’s still remarkably unhealthy, but at least it’s not as bad as it used to be. No more bruises adorning your hips or ribs, but he did once offer to mark you again if you so desired. He hasn’t brought it up since your rightfully hostile reaction to that little remark, but you can still see the possessiveness in his eyes, the unhinged desperation to keep you close.

And despite it all, you still circle him. You’re inviting danger, and he knows it. 

A pointed finger tap-tap-taps against your thigh, and you at last turn back to him. “What?” you ask waspishly.

“Your darling detectives got called in to handle a dispute on the other side of the city,” Eclipse says, watching as your eyes widen. “They had to leave right away, so it might be awhile before they return.”

“Oh,” you say, blinking. You hadn’t expected an actual answer. But then your gaze narrows and digs into Eclipse’s face, searching for the slightest hint of a lie. “How do you know this? I highly doubt they would have told you just so you could relay the news to me.”

Beyond unlikely. It’d be a worst case scenario if they ever sent Eclipse as a messenger. None of you trust him as far as you can throw him, and that says quite a lot about you, considering you don’t think you could ever even lift him an inch off the ground. Things are different now, yes, but it’s hard to shake the fact that he once held your life in the palms of his hands and nearly squeezed tight.

It would seem that the other is in a good mood, however—a result likely stemming from the way you were awakened, and you’re swiftly reminded that he has yet to exit the bed. You frown at the length of his body taking up your precious space under the covers, and the sight of his shoes poking out the other end of the bed is almost comical. His sheer size has no business being this outrageous.

Seemingly indifferent to your vexation, Eclipse continues to run his finger along your thigh, only stopping when you smack it away. He quickly snags your hand in his, and you have a very brief moment of panic before realizing that he’s only holding it, not crushing. Reluctant, you don’t pull away, hoping that this will at least coax him into giving you the information you need. Eclipse winks at you like he knows exactly what you’re thinking.

“Wiretapping is child’s play, sweetheart. I have to make sure the important people in my life are being taken care of.”

Indignation swells within you. Following it to a path of anger would be all too easy, but you know he’s expecting much the same. You decide to aim lower and mockingly bat your eyelashes at him. “Aww, so you do care about your brothers.”

Quick as a flash, he yanks your hand up to his mouth, sending your heart straight into your throat as you gasp and struggle to keep from pitching forward. Instead of an attack though, he presses a kiss to your knuckles, almost gentlemanly, and you recover enough to snap your hand free with a hiss. The response is rolling, mellow laughter, and you hate the feeling of being toyed with. 

Your mouth drops open to throw a heated word or two his way, but he beats you to the punch.

“Don’t worry. Anything I overhear is kept strictly confidential. You and your secret, precious little snoring are safe with me.”

That does it. You’re a little less than elegant as you clamber to your feet and off the bed, kicking the covers free and wishing you could do the same to Eclipse, even if it probably would result in a few broken toes. Aggravated, you retort, “I do not snore.”

You don’t plan to give Eclipse the chance to respond, intent on stomping out of the room and maybe finding a gun as his expression already says enough. But even after months of knowing the animatronic, you still aren’t used to his speed. His arm winds around your waist and tugs you right back to his side before you can fully snarl your protest. You spin in his grasp, ready to tug him down into a fight regardless of how reckless that would be.

As you twist around, you come face to face with him and freeze. He’s sitting up on the side of the bed now, long legs making room for you between them, and it feels like he’s nearly bent in half with how closely he’s folded around you. His rays blur for a sharp few seconds while his black pupils eagerly dance with your own, yellow optics flashing hungrily. As his eyes dip noticeably from your gaze down to your parted lips, his synthetic breathing turns heavier. You think your breaths maybe do the same, and embarrassingly, heat begins to simmer in your cheeks.

Right away, you realize he isn’t holding you tightly. His arm around you does keep you pressed against him, but the grip is loose enough you could wriggle free. His hand flexes at your hip like he wants to cling more, to dig in.

You feel like you’re on the edge of a very steep cliff.

“What are you doing?” you rasp. You’re not sure you like how breathy or quiet it comes out.

Eclipse has your full attention. What an ironic change of events. You don’t think you could look elsewhere if you tried, and that means you see the moment his pupils dilate with excitement. It’s almost human, in a way.

The possibility that you won’t get an answer this time seems more probable the longer he doesn’t reply. He studies you in a way that’s uncomfortable but maybe not as unwelcome as it once was. You tell yourself it’s just because you’ve become used to it, but you know that’s not the truth.

Unbidden, your eyes wander. The top of his shirt is unbuttoned, exposing a little more than what would be considered acceptable in any setting, but especially this one. Still, you don’t quite keep yourself from lingering on the colors of his body peeking out from the gap, metal gleaming in the low cyan light. 

“Whatever you want, sweetheart,” Eclipse rumbles at last, jerking your attention back up to his heavy expression. His free hand reaches up to slowly twirl a strand of your hair, tugging with light playfulness before curling it behind your ear. His fingers then graze the base of your skull, which elicits a shiver you can’t repress.

You manage an uneven chuckle at his words because what on earth is that supposed to mean? Is it not obvious? Does he actually think that you want to be held like this, that you enjoy his continued advances, that you even want him to…

To…

You swallow. He notices. The gentle scratching at the back of your neck has no right feeling this pleasant. Aware of how loud your prolonged silence is, you finally stammer, “You’re on very thin ice, angel eyes.” 

It’s easier to shift the blame to him. Easier to assume the attraction is one-sided, just in his head. He’ll have to recognize eventually that it’ll go nowhere if you keep denying him.

So why aren’t you shoving him away?

He leans closer still, scant space between your mouth and his. Your heart is racing, and your hand rests against his chassis without any force exerted against it. As his fingers flex again at your hip, your own clasp the front of his shirt. His other hand frames your cheek, and yours slides to his knee. 

“Then I guess,” he murmurs, as ensnared by you as you are by him, “it’s a good thing I’m not alone.”

Later, you won’t be able to admit to yourself who moved first. You’ll only be able to replay the scene in your head over and over again, wondering how after all this time, his kiss still satisfies a deep ache within your chest that is all too similar to the satisfaction you get from being with Sun and Moon.

***

(Note: Y/N asks Sun/Moon later if they snore, and the answer is a hesitant but resounding yes. Elsewhere in the city, Eclipse is heartily laughing to himself.)

YOU'RE MAKING ME SIMP SO HARD RIGHT NOW THIS SHOULD BE ILLEGAL HOW DARE

THE DESCRIPTION OF ROBO CLEAVAGE, THE TOUCHES, THE EMOTIONS OF Y/N STRUGGLING BETWEEN THE PAST AND THE PRESENT JUST AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

BABE, THIS IS A WARM-UP????

I'M DYING OVER YOUR WRITING AND HOW IT FOCUSES ON THIS LITTLE SCERNIO ALSDJFALFA IT'S SO GOOD THANK YOU FOR THE FEAST FOR MY EYES ♥ ♥ ♥

#read this y'all #i know you eclipse simps are out there #read this #other's writing

[underratedbananawerewolf]

Fictober 2023 Day 9

Prompt 9: "I wouldn't do that if I were you." 

Fandom: Honkai Star Rail 

Rating: T 

Warnings: None 

Stelle liked spending time in the Archives. It was pleasantly quiet there and she enjoyed Dan Heng’s company even when they didn’t do anything but share the same space. She often spent her evenings there, playing on her phone or reading while her companion worked on his daily data entries.  

This evening she had flopped down next to him as he was working from his bed rather than at the desk earning her a long-suffering stare. “Must you?” 

Stelle considered that and then nodded after that moment of thought. “Yes. I think so.” She shifted just enough to use him as a backrest, her gaze turning down to the puzzle game she opened. Given the heavy sigh behind her, she knew he had given up any protest about having her there.  

Silence descended for quite a while before something caught Stelle’s attention. Something soft brushed against her knee and she looked up to blink at just what had touched her. Glimmering blue scales met her gaze, the tip of the long tail having come to brush against her leg.  

Oh. 

She hadn’t seen much of Dan Heng’s tail. He still kept much of his Vidyadhara features hidden. Given his past, she didn’t really blame him for it. His human guise was safer and likely held better memories for him than anything his true nature did. But every once in a while, she caught glimpses of his ethereal beauty, and she hoped it meant he felt safe enough to relax the usually rigid control over himself.  

Without pausing to think Stelle reached out to run her hand across what she could reach of the tail, threading her fingers through the fur and feeling the practically translucent scales beneath. So soft. A soft choking sound from behind her broke her concentration, the girl looking up and over to see Dan Heng staring at her.  

“Do you mind?” He grumbled.  

“Could you feel it?” Stelle had stopped stroking him, but her hand remained where it lay.”  

“Of course, I can.” He groused. “It’s my tail.”  

She cocked her head, noting the faint hint of pink in his cheeks and flooding up into what parts of his ears she could see through his hair. She then very deliberately dragged her fingers through the fur as far as she could reach, her eyes still on his face.  

“Please, Stelle. Don’t do that.”  

“Why not?” She hadn’t stopped being curious as to how he would react. 

“Because I don’t know how much I can take.” He growled. “You don’t want to see what I might do.” 

A faint smile touched her lips at that growl, a mischievous glint in her golden eyes showing up. “Maybe I do.” Her nails traced the outline of several scales. It was as if they were made from solid water, just slightly cooler than room temperature. 

Her wrist was abruptly caught as the tail tip wrapped around it, removing all chance of further touching on her part, while his hand came up to catch her chin and force her to look him in the eye.  

He really was beautiful. Of course, whenever she told him that he always blushed. She didn’t want to lose that opportunity to see that so her compliments to him remained few and usually unexpected. “Stelle, you’re playing with things you don’t understand.” His voice no longer held the calm collected and almost indifferent tone he usually possessed. Instead, it was a much deeper and perhaps more bestial growl. “Stop it.”  

After that moment of consideration and not wanting to upset him any further (and knowing he likely wouldn’t ever explain what she might be playing with anyway), Stelle finally nodded. “Okay, Dan Heng. I’ll be good.”  

He released her with a sigh, the tail vanishing from view. He didn’t demand that she leave as he did enjoy her company, but he would at least take temptation out of her reach. Her touch had been a distraction. “I doubt that.” 

#fictober23 #honkai star rail #honkai star rail fic #fictober day 9

[porcelaincvnt]

𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐌. 𝐂𝐇 𝟏 ( 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐊𝐀𝐊𝐔 𝐍𝐀𝐑𝐀 )

💉 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐊𝐀𝐊𝐔 𝐍𝐀𝐑𝐀 𝐗 𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐄!𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

cw // drug use, alcohol, nsfw, smoking, age gap ( both are adults ! )

TW // MENTIONS OF TRANSPHOBIA, ADDICTION, PAST TRUAMA, SELF HARM.

💉 this series may not be for the faint of heart nor for the easily offended. please read with caution. this is your final warning.

please read my author’s note at the end!

just keep drinking.

you constantly tell yourself that as the cold glass bottle made your fingers numb, the burning taste of his vodka kissed your lips making them itch a bit. The cooler air bit your skin. despite it being a june evening with the usually humid and blistering days of summer.

but no matter how many bottles you drink, or how much sex you have with random older men or woman, nothing could satisfy your need to feel. numbness has taken over your days, to the point of desperation to feel something even if it stung a little. from smoking a bit of weed or downing bottle after bottles of vodka and liquor, to ending up in the back of allies nearly passing out, you never found a limit in the things you do. it was too addicting and exciting for you to quit, even if you knew it was killing you slowly. you find yourself paralyzed from panic attacks and manic episodes, stuck to the floor like you were a part of it. you’d wait and wait with silent but stupid hope of someone finding you, maybe physically, but never finding you.

standing up, the oversized shirt you had on moved a bit, revealing your boy shorts that could already be undergarments due to how much it revealed. you walk back through the sliding door that leads into shikaku’s room, where you find him sitting up and smoking a cigarette. his back was turned, showing off his large tattoos marked all over him, it’s no wonder why you fell so hard for the old man.

“am i interrupting something?” you asked quite loudly, making him jump a bit.

“jesus, you scared me…” he chuckled a bit when he realized it was just his lover.

you quickly crawled into bed, ultimately landing onto his lap. Immediately, you felt his hands roam your body, not surprising considering how handsy he is. he leans closer to you, where you’d snatch his cigarette out of his mouth and take a long drag on it, blowing smoke into his face. he then fell back onto the pillows, taking you down with him, crashing into the white sheets. due to your rowdy nature with him, you didn’t realize your shirt was riding up your body until it was up to your chest, revealing your scars. shikaku stopped for a while, and his hands began to explore your upper body, his fingers landing on your scars from your transition at sixteen. while others may find them fascinating, they hold memories that burn into your brain. nights of endless fights with your parents who did everything in their power to keep you from transitioning, to the deadnaming of the name that’s long forgotten in your head, eventually ending in you being disowned and kicked to the curb. well, that wasn’t really the reason, it would have been the least severe at least.

you were lost in your thoughts, until you felt something heavy on top of you. you looked up to see him crawling onto you, one hand on the back of your neck and the other on your waist as he pulled you onto your side. The blanket covering your body slipped downwards, revealing your curves and scars from childhood. now nearly every inch of your body is exposed. you watched as shikaku drags the tip of his fingers, tracing your figure gently. chills running up and down your body, leaving you flushed in the face and goosebumps raising in your skin. it left you confused if you were aroused or the effects of the vodka were kicking in.

“C’mere love..”

Like an obedient dog, you immediately shuffled into his arms, while he lifted you onto his lap until you straddled him. His hands landed on your bare waist as he stripped you of your clothing completely, the animalistic nature nearly made them tear. The grip he had on your hips made you sore and the skin bruised, but none of that mattered as you kept grinding against shikaku, desperate for any spark of friction. Your lips crashed against his, teeth and tongue grinding against one another. Felt like everytime, he got rougher and rougher in the sheets, his hunger for pleasure never died down. The taste of cigarettes and whisky filled your mouth, how disgustingly addicting it was. Didn’t matter how many times he fucked you, you could never get enough from him. you don’t know how, but intimacy with him blossomed a need for more from him inside you, stronger than any drug or alcohol you ingested.

he was a drug. one you can never get enough of, leaving you hooked.

The sheets felt hot against your skin, combating the chilly air of his room. Shikaku’s harsh bites against your neck made your body shake in pleasure, but a stinging pain struck your core. Your mind couldn’t help but feel shame for your antics with a man ten years older than you. the taboo nature of it all made your skin crawl with excitement and fear, the potential humiliation would strangle you like a noose. Though, that humiliation was nothing new. The heat in your body made your mind hazy as your older lover pushed you into the sheets, his mouth still latched onto your neck. you could feel his painful bulge through the thin, soft material of his boxers. as the vodka ran through your veins and into your head, your grip on his hair tightened. tugging hard from the excitement. The alcohol fueled haze only got heavier with the suffocating heat and your mind went dark.

Lost in shameful and disgusting lust, only for the aftermath to linger when dawn broke.

“Fuck, not again..”

You could only mutter to yourself, the smoke spilled from your lips as each word punched out another puff. The sunrise was barely visible through your heavy lids and wild bangs in your face, your hair wild from last night's session. Small mats tangled together to make bothersome hairballs, all from days of neglect. Really, it wasn’t anything new, you're quite used to the neglect on your body. Unknown bruises spotted your skin, bloody bandaids littered your arms and thighs, one even on your jawline. The eyebags and dark circles deepened your eyes, leaving them sore and making it hard to keep them open. Little things weighing you down.

The few medicine besides a couple bandaids and stinging rubbing alcohol, the sex and drugs that kept you alive in the head only fueled your frenzy for more. Vodka and weed became melatonin for you, cigarettes stained your tongue and pills a nameless doctor prescribed you became a grip on reality. Your mind replayed these thoughts over and over like a messed up snuff film. You took a long and quite hard drag on the cigarette you took from Shikaku’s pack, almost choking on the thick smog. Your head turned to him, sleeping soundly, clearly last night did quite a number on him.

“Hm, too rough on you?”

You asked, not loud enough for him to hear you. Your eyes remained on the sleeping beast besides you, his hair long and scattered all over his face and shoulders. The smell of cigarettes and vodka buried in his skin, filling your nose until its taste stung your tongue. The man reeks of his venom. Shikaku’s groans filled the room, as he finally woke up from his sleep, eyes immediately landing on you.

“morning sweets..” he chuckles out, the sight of you already making him smiley, or that could be the afterglow of the alcohol.

his hand reached out until it landed on your thigh, gently squeezing it as he slowly got up, shifting closer to you. his arm snaked around your waist, slightly pulling you until you fell onto his shoulder. smoke swirls around your hand from the burning cigarette. despite the clear words for no romantic ties with the old man, you couldn’t help but feel warmth in his arms, the only warmth you could have felt in years. not from your parents, your exes or your hookups, but a rando. it was embarrassingly tragic, but what else could you do?

you had no home, no relatives to go to, very few friends, and a reputation that forever drags you in the dirt.

the comfort and touch shikaku gives you was something you yearned desperately, even if it meant crawling in bed with him. not caring about the large age gap or his sleeping son downstairs, the harmless drinking turns into rough sex that would leave it’s burns onto your tender skin. sin strung you like a noose, it’s grip growing tighter and tighter till the string snaps. a cycle that traps both of you, it’s torturous afterglow binds the two of you. he was everything you wanted, but everything you hated.

“something the matter?” shikaku snaps you out of your trance, but your eyes remain away from his.

“i’ll be leaving tonight..” you immediately spat out. leaving, as in crash in another shitty motel for a week or two, before coming crawling back to him. you hate to burden your lover with so much, no matter how much he says otherwise. the mind batters you with cruel remarks and faults crashing onto you, combined with the blurry memories of your days in your parent’s home. the days where you counted and urged your eighteenth birthday, days where kindness and tenderness were forgin to you, days where your room was a tomb where you rested and blocked out the outside. how your heart hurt every time you even hear their footsteps.

“i don’t know where i’ll be tonight, hopefully somewhere close..” you continued. “just in case you know…”

shikaku’s face shifted, his hardened expressions softened. he couldn’t really respond, knowing full well he knew it was for the better. all he could do was plant a kiss on your temple, a silent gesture. while your sympathy drowned out, you always had a soft spot for the old man. his stupid smile and those scares that marked his face and body made your stomuch flutter a bit. even on your worst nights, where your mind falls into a drunken haze and a drug fuled frenzy, he never once abandoned you. never left you to die.

but he was only a meer hookup, someone who took pity and let you stay. temporary, you’d say. a necessary vessel for a better life. that’s how you see everyone who even benefits you in the smallest ways. even if you don’t make it to twenty one.

so why stay?

a/n: i hope yall liked this so far, it’s my first actual series on this account. please understand however, this fic ( again ) will become harder to read as chapter come out. the subject matter in requim isnt for a lighthearted or those who may be easily disturbed. more tw’s will be placed as the fic goes on. please continue with caution and click off or drop the series as a whole if you genuinely cannot handle it. this is my only warning ( this will be placed in the masterlist as well. )

#drugs cw #alcohol cw #dark content #naruto #naruto x reader #naruto fic #shikaku x reader #shikaku nara #naruto x you

[sleeperswakewriting]

Levi returns from the war, suffering a severe head injury that impairs his memory of Petra and his child with her. Petra works with him day and night to help him regain his memories.

Rating: G

I could write a whole one shot of this, but I hope this suffices 🥺💕

A knock at the door startles Levi awake. Vision blurry, it takes him a second to clear his throat, take in his surroundings, and then answer, “Come in.” 

The door opens slowly. Pensive. Then a ginger bob pokes her head in with a small smile and a tray with food. Toast with butter and a piping cup of tea make Levi’s mouth water, and his eyes are drawn more to the food than the woman. His stomach rumbles, unable to remember the last time he ate, and he sits up a bit straighter as she plops the tray onto his lap. 

“The tea is hot, so you might want to wait a bit. You always prefer it on the cooler side.” 

Petra. That’s her name, the beautiful and enchanting woman who is apparently his wife. He doesn’t remember much of anything besides his name and a few blips of his childhood, having lost his memory in the war. His body has also seen better days; currently, he uses a wheelchair and there are stitches across his eye and face. Petra’s shown him pictures of what he looked like before, and the image is both familiar and unknown. 

“I was on your squad, we were friends first before we…” A blush paints her cheeks, and even though Levi doesn’t know her, he swears he could fall in love if he could elicit a reaction like that.

She’s biting her lip and Levi has the insane urge to kiss her. He wants to remember, but the doctors told them it might take some time. A concussion, head trauma, there are too many medical terms for Levi to make sense of, but Petra took diligent notes and distilled the information for him. 

They’re staying in an old barrack. Petra tearfully tells him their house was destroyed in The Rumbling since their home was tucked on the outskirts of the city, just by the Walls. Flashes of images and screams sober Levi until his throat bobs with fear. Gently, Petra takes his hand while she gives a furtive smile despite the ring on her finger. A matching one is around his neck—gold—and he isn’t sure if he should put it back on with the missing digits on his left hand. 

It’s only been a day since they settled in and Petra pads around him like a wounded animal while she adjusts his pillows. 

“Did you have a nice nap? The doctor said you need lots of rest.” 

There’s something off. Levi can’t tell what it is; he gets the sense he isn’t great with people by his clipped tone, but Petra’s kind nature has him wondering how he managed to land her. There’s apprehension in her eyes like she wants to say more than pleasantries. 

He scoots to the side of the bed, which is big enough for two, and he asks if she’ll be joining him tonight. 

Petra stiffens and an adorable yelp escapes her while she smoothes out the nonexistent wrinkles on her skirt. “I don’t want to intrude. The couch is fine.” She waves her hand to the hallway where a dusty set of furniture awaits her.

He can’t help but tease her with a smirk. “I thought we were married.” 

“We are,” she says quickly. “But I understand if you don’t want a stranger in your bed—“

“Petra, if I’m going to remember anything, I think having my wife nearby will help.” He means it even if he enjoys catching her off guard and his voice softens. “Can you sit with me and tell me about our life? I want to hear about our wedding.” 

A girlish smile escapes Petra and she sits at the edge of the bed. Too far away for Levi’s liking, but she takes her time as she traces patterns into the sheets, her voice laced with honeyed nostalgia. 

“It was a quick one. We had it the day we came back from discovering the ocean. It was just Hange and the kids, but it was special. Our honeymoon without worrying about Titans was probably my favorite part.” She giggles then, coughing into her hand, but her eyes harden into solemnity. 

“Levi, there’s something else you need to know.” She faces him, her amber eyes like the north star in the light. “After our wedding, I got pregnant.” 

And like shattering glass, he feels a part of his heart open into an ache he didn’t know he was missing. Petra is next to him now, her hand atop his into a beautiful smile. “Kuchel is waiting for you. She’s with my parents and she knows you were in Marley. It’s a lot for a three-year-old to handle so I didn’t want to bring her right away or overwhelm you, but it felt strange not saying anything. I don’t expect you to do anything—“

“I have a daughter,” he says in disbelief, his eyes wide and mouth slightly ajar. 

“Yes,” she affirms. “She’s beautiful, baby. She has your eyes and my hair and you’re her favorite person in the world. She misses her papa.”

Levi sees her, then. A small infant, his world becoming right in a breathless second, and moments of crying and gurgling hit him like a hurricane. 

Finally, he is home.

#rivetra #rivetra fanfiction #levi x petra #my fics