#freshly brewed :]

[asxgard]

This is for Frank Langdon where the both of you guys are doctors in the hospital but in different departments. However after a long and busy day requiring the efforts of the entire hospital, in your guys make it home to your apartment and he accompany you in the shower for shower sex. Just to hold each other and be close after the long day

Slow | one shot

Dr. Frank Langdon x f!doctor!reader

Requested

Summary: It was a shift with all hands on deck. You’re thankful that at the end of it, Frank’s hands are all over you.

[ My Masterlist ]

Note: Frank was interesting to write for! I think I might have a series brewing…

Also I’m not confident in my smut work, so I apologize if it’s lacking but I hope you like, anon!

Word Count: 1.1k

Most of my works are 18+ due to adult language and content

Warnings: afab!reader, SMUT (MINORS DNI), p in v, unprotected sex (seriously, wrap it up), mild angst, mild fluff, hospital setting, Frank is divorced, drugs?? what drugs, car crash victims/injuries of children, canon-typical gore, pet names (prettyboy, sweetheart)

not beta read

It was not unheard of for you to be down in the ED — for a consult, to bring a patient up to the ICU, or even just when you had a few minutes to spare. That was how you had met Dr. Langdon, over a pediatric patient who was going to need intensive care after a car accident. You had been down there to help stabilize before bringing him to surgery, where he would then come to the Pediatric ICU for the remainder of his stay.

Frank had been a livewire when you first met him, freshly divorced and on a downward spiral. His overtime was working overtime so he did not have to return to his quiet apartment. You weren’t exactly sure when something between you two clicked — likely somewhere between resuscitating a drowned little girl and sitting on the stairs hours later after she had been moved upstairs.

Neither of you really gave it a name, and with his divorce only months behind him, you had not wanted to title it. You weren’t really even looking for anything at the time, so being patient was not hard. Even as the months ticked on, you were content with late nights spent at his or lazy weekends at yours. No real dates, or anything concrete, but it was good.

The ED was a flurry of movement, of calculated chaos, bursting at the seams when you stepped off the elevator. It was usually those moments you questioned Frank’s sanity, for being able to thrive under the pressure of it all.

A mass pileup during the worst summer storm in recent memory had pulled a significant amount of doctors down to the ED, you included. You had heard a school bus full of kids had been involved, which was where you were planning to focus your attention.

To your relief, most of them had only been minorly injured, only one with a possible tibia break after being thrown from his seat. You moved your attention to the other patients, assisting where you were needed and assessing the kids who had come in.

You moved to get a suture kit for a head wound, and Frank stepped beside you. You did what you could to keep whatever it was between you a secret, but at the end of the day, you worked upstairs and didn’t particularly care about the ED rumor mill.

“Still expecting a few more ambulances.” He told you, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“Anything serious?”

He shrugged, “Possible broken bones, and a severe laceration, I think.”

It was not just a few broken bones and a severe laceration. It was several. Add in the few slip and falls, a finger amputation, and some severe head injuries that had not been diverted to other hospitals, and you were back in the swamp. The influx never seemed to end and it made you want to beg for the sweet relief of the Pediatric ICU.

By the time you were back upstairs rounding out your shift, you were exhausted. Caffeine did little to pick you up and you wondered how Frank had been able to do that every day. Especially as a resident working extra hours.

He found you in the parking garage, lips in a smirk like he knew something you didn’t. And it was in the expression in his eyes that you found you were craving something equally salty and sweet.

Good thing Frank was both.

Frank’s lips were on you before you were even through the threshold of your apartment, hot, hungry and wanting. It was easy to fall into him, hands going into his hair while he helped you discard your scrub bottoms.

He had you against the wall beside the door, hands exploring, though as you bit his lip, he slowed down. Fevered kisses turned languid, beginning to take his time, which was a change of pace for him.

“You wanted to shower?” He breathed against your lips, his blue eyes piercing into you and making your stomach warm.

“The amount of shower injuries you must’ve seen surely should deter you, no?”

He smirked, “You’re no inexperienced rider, and I’m a professional.”

A brow quirked at his confidence, but it buzzed in your chest, “Oh, so you’re a professional now, prettyboy?”

“Oh, you think I’m pretty?”

You barked out a laugh, grabbing hold of his scrub top and pulling him to your bathroom. Clothes were discarded on the way, and something settled when the warm water hit your skin. Soft and unspoken, but known and quiet.

He held you close, arms wrapped around you in what felt like a tender moment. After such a long day, it was nice. His hand on your cheek, dragging his tongue along your lower lip before slipping inside your mouth.

You hummed when his other hand slipped between your legs, working slow circles on your clit. Your heart picked up and you hooked a leg around his hips, steadying your weight on him. He accepted the invitation, pushing you up against the tiled wall.

Heat was licking up your stomach before he was even inside you, growing buzzed on his mouth and the feeling of his hands on your body.

He kissed along your cheekbone, whispering in your ear, “You want me, sweetheart? Hmm, here?”

His fingers moved to your opening, teasing the entrance.

You moaned, gripping onto his shoulders. You attempted to move your hips, trying to gain more friction, “Fuck, Frank, please.”

You felt his smirk and he moved his head to look at you again, his eyes holding you steady. He trailed his hand along the thigh hooked around his hip, tugging it up a bit higher to allow him access. He braced one hand against the wall and moved just enough to line himself up, thrusting just enough to gain entry.

A low groan exited his throat, and you clenched around him. He didn’t move, just pulled your body closer, kissing along your jaw. You held onto him, enjoying the languid moment, relishing just how close you felt to him like that. Not just physically, but in a way that made your heart ache.

You kissed his shoulder and up his neck, adjusting your hips to take him deeper. He moaned and rested his forehead against yours, before he started moving — keeping his pace slow and deliberate.

You came undone wrapped around him, and he held you through it, never letting up or changing his pace. No words needed to be exchanged, just the soft moans and his low grunts. When his hips stuttered with his own release, he panted into your neck, still not letting go of you.

He swallowed and pulled back, eyes flickering across your face before a soft smile graced his lips.

“So you think I’m pretty?”

want to join any of my taglists or change which one you’re on? shoot me a message!

The Pitt taglist: @cannonindeez @spoiledflor @kittenhawkk @nessamc @thatchickwiththecamera @sharkluver @loud-mouph @ksyn-faith @sunfairyy @dragonsondragons @mischiefsemimanaged @pastelbunnelby

All Content taglist: @nixandtonic

that man is so pretty🥺

my requests are currently closed.

[regia-rainn]

Stepcast!141 x Reader

Stepdad!Price x fem!reader Description: Price and reader try to take advantage of a quiet morning. Genre/Warnings: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, CW: Stepcest, 18+, MDNI, stepdad!Price x stepdaughter!reader, fem!reader, stepcast!141, poly!141, Taboo, smut, fingering, dark romance, daddy kink, edging, age gap, porn with semi plot, explicit, series, reader and price are interrupted WC: 823

My Masterlist

**AN This is part one of a new series I am working on and my first time experimenting with writing something more... Socially niche? unacceptable? Anyway, let me know if I'm missing tags. Enjoy!🤓 P.S. Not that I should have to say this but, I do not condone or encourage these acts. This is purely fiction and intended as entertainment only. If you'd like to be added/removed from the taglist please, let me know.

It's early morning. The sun is starting to peek over the horizon, and a soft blue glow creeps through your blinds.

The smell of freshly brewed coffee wafts up the stairs. It must be your stepfather, Price, getting ready for the day.

Despite it being the summer, the wooden floorboards are cold beneath your feet. You pad quietly down the steps, wearing an old pair of shorts and a tee shirt. The shorts ride a bit higher now than they did when you first bought them a few years ago.

As you rounded the corner into the kitchen, you spot Price leaning over the sink, his back to you, looking out the window as he waits patiently for his coffee.

You lean over the counter on the other side of the island, smirking.

"Mornin'."

Your voice cuts through the silence. Price's head whips around. His expression softens when he sees you, a smile tugging at his lips.

"Good morning, sweetheart."

Price greets, pushing off the sink and turning toward you.

"Sleep well?"

You shrug in response.

"The boys still asleep?"

Price nods.

"And mom?"

You ask as you step around the counter, letting him get a better view.

"Gone for the weekend."

He replies, voice low, almost amused. His eyes roam over your body, lingering just a bit too long. You hum and use your arms to pull yourself up on the cool granite countertop.

"That's a nice little outfit you've got on."

His gruff accent coming out breathier than intended.

"You like it?"

Price ran a hand over the stubble on his chin, eyes slowly dragging down your bare legs.

"Very much."

He murmurs, stepping in between your parted thighs. His hands settle on either side of you, his usual cheeky smile on his face.

You lean in, your breath ghosting over his ear as you whisper,

"I've got nothing on underneath."

His brow lifts in surprise, intrigued.

"Really... Nothing at all?"

You shook your head, smirking.

"Naughty girl."

Price mutters, his eyes darkening.

"I'm sorry, Daddy... It’s just been so long."

You whine, jutting out your bottom lip in a playful pout.

"I know, baby."

He inhaled sharply, pressing his body flush to yours. His arms wrap around you and pull you forward. It had been quite a while since you were this close to him. You missed this, the tension in his muscles and the warmth of his body.

"You've been so patient for me."

He says softly. One of his large hands slips down between you. Momentarily gripping the fat of your thigh before sliding beneath the hem of your shorts.

"Be a good girl and keep quiet for me. Yeah?"

His words hit you like a spark. The nerves flip to arousal, pulsing low in your core. You nod eagerly.

Prices thumb finds your entrance, gliding through your slick before circling your clit with ease. You bite back a whimper, leaning back on your palms against the cool countertop. Your knees, mindlessly falling open wider.

"So needy, sweetheart."

Price chuckles, dipping his head down to your neck. He lightly trails kisses down to your collarbone, leaving a few soft bites. A sharp gasp escapes your lips. Price presses a calloused hand over your mouth.

A moan vibrates across his palm as two thick digits slide into the tight walls of your soaked entrance.

The wet sound fills the kitchen. You let out a shaky breath, rocking your hips forward in search of more. Price chuckles, his hungry gaze falls between you, watching you ride his fingers. The bulge in his pajama straining harder at the sight.

"You're so damn beautiful like this."

His gaze climbs to yours. You reach a soft hand forward, hooking your fingertips in his waistband and lightly tugging his hips forward.

His eyes brighten with lust, and a low grunt escapes him, followed by an amused chuckle.

"Oh? You want more, do you, sweetheart?"

He asks. His hand drops from your mouth and cups the back of your neck, capturing your pretty lips in a sweet kiss.

"So desperate. Don't worry, baby. Daddy's gonna take good care of you."

His fingers pick up pace as you cling to the edge. White knuckles clawing at the granite. Heat vibrates through you, building fast, core tightening as you near your release.

"You've been so good, so patient, sweetheart."

Price murmurs into your neck, suckling on the soft skin. But before you can fall over the edge, footsteps thunder down the staircase.

Price jerks back immediately.

"Dammit."

He hisses. Turning to casually pour himself a cup of Coffee.

You sit up straighter, quickly crossing your legs as Gaz rounds the corner, oblivious, and mildly surprised to see anyone else awake.

"Oh! Good morning."

He says.

You offer him a small smile, eyes flicking toward the back of Price's head. The ache between your thighs is still persistent.

Too late now. You'd have to wait for another time.

PART 2 >>

[amywritesthings]

dating on airplane mode. | part one.

( Read on AO3 )

Pairing: levi ackerman x f!reader (attack on titan / shingeki no kyojin) Word Count: 3.9k Summary: So you're dating your neighbor who also happens to be a sex hotline dom named Levi Ackerman. Stranger things have happened, right?

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI - alternate universe (modern), slow burn, eventual smut, sex work, neighbors au, newly established relationship, dual pov, the direct sequel to Press Four For More Options Credits: dividers by @saradika-graphics submitted for @levievent 's #levimonth24 / day 22: neighbors

part two. | masterlist

“I'm seeing someone.”

Tea goes flying — metaphorically and physically.

When he confessed a new (and very unexpected) development in his (borderline nonexistent) dating life, Levi hadn’t anticipated Hange Zoe turning directly towards Erwin Smith to unleash a devastating spit-take attack to the face.

It’s a direct hit.

Erwin heroically takes the brunt of the damage, so at least his furniture is spared.

(Levi didn’t need to spend the rest of the afternoon scrubbing down the already scrubbed-down living room.)

Hange’s shout is shrill, the realization hitting them like a full-throttle freight train.

“You’re what?”

“He said he’s seeing someone,” Erwin answers in monotone before Levi can even try. 

The tall blonde extends a hand to leisurely grab the napkin cradling the bottom of his tea saucer. In true Erwin fashion, he doesn’t even blink at Hange’s dramatics — or their consequences unto him.

He raises the napkin to blot the side of his face sprinkled with a mixture of freshly-brewed lavender tea and Hange’s saliva.

(Then again, Hange could abruptly bang pots and pans in the middle of the night and Erwin would merely call it a minor inconvenience to his sleep routine.)

“No, no, I heard what he said,” Hange recovers with a crack to their voice, “but I can’t tell if he’s messing with us.”

“I’m not,” Levi flatly states.

“Okay, but how do we know?”

“Hange—”

Except it’s Erwin intercepting once more. “Because he would never pretend to have a significant other when one of his closest friends happens to be you.”

Hange squints, pushing their glasses up the bridge of their nose.

“Why? ‘Cause I joked that I’d stalk him the next time he finally found a date? That was one time, Erwin.”

Erwin rolls his neck to the right, offering Hange a pair of thick, disbelieving eyebrows.

“Technically speaking, Zoe, you threatened to stalk either of us if you caught even a sniff that we could be in the midst of a romantic pursuit. Plus, we’re well aware of the disguise kit collecting dust in the trunk of Moblit’s car.”

An instant shit-eating grin passes across their lips.

“Ha. Fair.”

If Levi’s eyeballs could roll any further into the back of his skull, they’d get stuck.

“However,” Erwin adds, those bold blue eyes flickering back towards Levi, “it doesn’t explain why we were in the dark until now. At the very least, we should hope you would feel safe enough to confide in us about someone you are serious about dating.”

Yeah. 

Out of his two friends sitting across from him, Levi figured Erwin would be the most suspicious of the surprise announcement.

Now that it’s been a few days since That Fateful Night, he doesn’t feel as self-conscious to confess his new reality.

It was as good of a time as any to rip the proverbial band-aid off.

(Besides, it was only a matter of mistakes before his friends learned the truth for themselves.)

Hange, Erwin, Moblit — they’re his only remaining connections tying him to this city. The others from his gym days have all found offers in other towns, returned to their old homes—

Moved on.

Meeting Erwin Smith in boot camp changed the trajectory of his life, for better or worse. 

Levi had known the man longer than he knew anyone else — but only by a few days and some change, considering he was destined (Hange’s words, not his) to meet the hyper scientist and their subdued partner, Moblit, in the army as well.

Then, as if attached to the hip, all four of them agreed to work at Erwin’s gym.

When that fell through, Erwin found the Scout Services Hotline.

.

.

— —

.

.

    The announcement came to him one summer evening with a printed job description and a six pack of beer.

Levi assumed Erwin’s confession on taking a sex hotline job had been one weird, shitty joke.

Picturing stoic, pragmatic Erwin Smith telling people how to fuck themselves in their bedrooms late at night for the almighty dollar felt obscene. 

Hell, it was obscene.

Levi didn’t want to consider his oldest friend in such a compromising position, but there it was laid before him without shame or fear of judgment.

Becoming a part-time sex worker for Erwin was as noncommittal as taking up a fleeting niche interest — like exotic bird watching or crocheting sweaters for fucking cats.

“At the gym, we improved upon people’s lives,” Erwin had told him while sipping his beer, staring out to the city sightline from Levi’s balcony. “Who has the authority to say this job isn’t doing something similar to those who may be lonely?”

“You would make yapping on a damn sex hotline prophetic,” Levi scoffed in return. “Selling some shitty porn script a dozen times a night sounds like the closest you could get to Hell.”

“I disagree,” Erwin argued without heat. “When I interviewed, they stated every employee is given the ability to do as they please. To show their strengths and make it their own.”

“Bullshit.”

“It isn’t.” 

Erwin rested the beer bottle on the knee of his trousers. 

“Flexible work hours give me the ability to find another place the gym can call home. The pay would certainly cover any initial costs after several years.”

“Several years?”

Levi frowned, sitting up straighter in his chair.

“Erwin… c’mon. Just take a second to listen to yourself.”

“I’m only offering a chance for you to do the same. You may not be fond of people, Levi, but you’re loyal to a stubborn fault.”

Erwin gave him a sidelong glance.

“I know you won’t put in applications to go to any other gym.”

“Tch.”

A dismissive sound was all he could muster at the time.

He always hated how Erwin could open the cavity of his chest and put his damn bleeding heart on display.

“Who says I haven’t been window shopping to pass the damn unemployment time?”

“I wish you would,” Erwin replied with a heavy sigh. “Your skills are better when in use, not lying waste with the rest of us.”

“Hange and Moblit’re doing just fine.”

Hange, a self-proclaimed babbler, returned to Paradis University to make headway on some fascinating research projects side by side with Moblit. 

It was where they belonged, really.

“Fine, then lying waste with me.”

After a beat, Erwin slid his hand across the space between their chairs and held out a slip of paper.

"Look it over. Really sit down and think about what you did for our fighters and see where I’m coming from. You have a knack for leading. Of making people believe in themselves at their lowest."

He made it a point to stop. Stare.

Levi bit his tongue, meeting his friend's stern gaze.

"Conventional or not, you would still be helping people. Even if it’s a job for a month, at least you’ll be putting a hell of a lot of money in your pocket. It's better than waiting for my signal to move on.”

.

.

— —

.

.

    The bastard was always great at a rousing speech.

That night was the night Levi plugged in the damn website and read the job description.

By morning, he had submitted his application for a part-time hotline employee that included an .mp3 file auditioning his voice.

Erwin must have told his boss that he had a life-long friend possibly interested in the position, because by that night?

Levi Ackerman had a job.

A night turned into a month.

A month turned into six. 

Six to a year.

Suddenly denying begging, pleading people from their chased orgasms became as second nature as completing an Excel sheet.

Yet nothing else changed.

Levi still kept to himself.

Considering the friend group worked odd hours — Erwin with his own clientele, Moblit working towards his Masters, and Hange testing the scientific project of the week at the same university when unsupervised — it was easy to.

Wake up. Work out. Eat. Run errands. Clock in for work. Clock out. Eat. Sleep. 

Repeat.

Routine.

Hell, a lot of his life worked like a well-oiled machine until you showed up.

Now his world is slightly spinning off-axis, and he knows:

Without talking to his friends about his (uncharacteristically selfish and) impulsive decision, everything could very well go up in flames.

(Because when it comes to sticking matters of the heart and Levi Ackerman in one room, the former never walks out.)

After a pregnant pause in this three-way stand-off, Hange leans in, pressing both hands onto the tops of their thighs. 

“So when you say you’re seeing someone, you mean like… romantically?”

“As opposed to what?” Levi flatly asks.

“Well, seeing someone could mean anything, especially for you,” Hange reasons. Levi’s eyes narrow when Erwin gives that short huff of air through his nose like he’s stifling a laugh. “You could be seeing someone about finally fixing your dryer.”

“Seriously?”

“I’m just saying, romantically isn’t the first idea that comes to mind!”

“I have to agree with Zoe,” Erwin finally states, shifting his blue eyes to Levi’s. “You never mentioned that you had met someone in our group chat, and you haven’t made any changes in your schedule that suggest otherwise.”

Levi can’t help but scoff.

“Oh, so now you’re following Hange’s goddamn Google calendar?”

That fucking calendar.

The ‘we’re so busy but we can’t lose touch just because the gym went under’ calendar hastily made at two in the morning and sent with a declaration of war if no one accepted the invite.

All four of them did.

(Then again, Moblit didn’t have much of a choice.)

“I check on occasion,” is Erwin’s short rebuttal, before sitting up straighter. “But the former argument stands: you didn’t tell us that you were dabbling in the dating scene.”

“Wouldn’t really call it dabbling, Erwin,” Levi huffs, picking up his tea cup by clawing the rim of the ceramic. “Shit just kind of happened.”

“Uh-uh,” Hange interrupts. “We’re not playing coy right now, Levi. I want details: name, height—”

“Occupation,” Erwin agrees.

“Where they’re from.”

“If they have siblings.”

“Do they live near here?”

“If they’re allergic to cats.”

An involuntary grimace passes over Levi’s face.

“Ooh! We also need to know if they like tennis,” Hange adds excitedly. “Don’t trust someone who likes tennis, spectator or player. They’re always too put together with an underlying layer of batshit crazy.”

Erwin halts mid-sip of his tea. 

“...I like tennis.”

Hange’s thumb and middle finger sharply snap. “Exactly.”

Enough.

Levi hastily pushes his black fringe out of his eyes with his free hand. “I— No, Jesus, can we stop speculating about her?”

“Why?” Erwin challenges.

“Because I told you what you needed to know,” Levi challenges without tripping over his words. “And I’d prefer to keep the rest of myself.”

“Ah, her.”

When he turns his attention to Hange, there’s a wicked glimmer in their eye.

Well, fuck him.

Too much has already been said.

Hange whistles low. 

“So how recently was this fair maiden introduced into thy friend’s life?”

“Don’t start talking like a freak, Four Eyes,” he warns them while they suppress a cackle between pressed lips. “And — fuck, fine. If no one is going to let it go—”

“We aren’t.”'

Erwin interrupts, making it two against one.

With a set glare at his blonde friend, the smaller man sinks further into his chair and sighs with reluctant resolve. 

“I… met her a few days ago. It...”

Trailing off, he sets his tea cup down to rub at his temples with one hand.

This is going to bring on a headache. 

He really doesn’t need it on a work night.

“You’re both going to have an opinion on the how, and trust me, so do I.”

Hange’s face screws up in confusion, but he sees it out of the corner of his eye.

Erwin grows still. Contemplative.

Yeah, he knew this was going to go terribly.

“Huh?” Hange whips their ponytail back and forth to look between both men, smacking themself on the sides of their face. “Why wouldn’t we approve of how? Is it one of the old fighters?”

Levi scoffs, dropping to sit back in his chair. “I’d rather choke.”

“Then I’m not following. You don’t even talk to cashiers at the grocery store.”

“When did she call the hotline?” Erwin asks, cutting straight through the bush instead of beating around it.

His stare is almost indiscernible. Stern.

(Protective.)

The lightbulb clicks. Hange finally settles their attention on him. 

“Whoa — wait, she’s a…”

“Former client,” Levi confesses after Hange trails off. “Emphasis on the former part.”

The room grows silent.

Levi doesn’t have the capacity to see Hange’s true reaction, because he’s keeping eye contact with Erwin.

Their own telepathic argument bounces back and forth like that very proverbial tennis ball Hange had so teasingly laid down.

The ethics of it all;

The logistics of what it could mean for the future;

The gravity of this choice and knowing its weight is crushing him.

Erwin’s gaze softens a fraction.

Levi’s shoulders relax, if only a little.

“And how did that opportunity come to pass?” the taller blonde finally asks, but it isn’t as harsh as Levi anticipated. 

Hell, it’s curious.

Willing — to not judge; to hear him out.

“Accidentally stumbled into her at the bar down the street,” Levi confesses.

Stumbled is an understatement.

.

.

— —

.

.

    “So then — what does this mean?”

He doesn’t know.

God, he has no fucking clue.

Just like he had no fucking clue you’d be at this bar tonight; that you not only lived in the area, but in the same goddamn building just a few floors south.

You were meant to be a fluke thing.

A moment of weakness.

An anomaly he could solve like every other problem in his life, one he could reason to death and move on from once you realized that this hotline is a slippery slope to financial debt.

At the end of the day, it wasn’t meant to be real.

The calls, the laughter, the exchange of stories felt real, but that’s the selling point.

Imagining idealism.

He could send as many discounted invoices as he could to management to ease the cost of your calls, but there was only so much he could do from his position.

Still—

That being said, he wanted this.

For the first time in a long time, he wanted something.

Ever since Erwin’s gym went under and the staff were forced to find something else in the interim, Levi Ackerman turned off his emotions. His passion.

Money was tight. 

Bills were bills. 

But there are worse things to do than apply to a remote-working sex hotline with the promise of flexible hours, medical insurance, and the opportunity to get away from people for a while.

Maybe he hadn’t realized he was simply going through the motions of buying a morning tea at the coffee shop down the street. 

Maybe he hadn’t noticed that his drive to push himself to the brink of exhaustion at the gym all but disappeared.

Maybe he existed to simply exist.

Then you called.

Petra had pinged him to let him know that there was someone looking for a deep voice — not surprising — with a tendency to overtalk and overthink.

Easy.

Those types always cave the second you call them a pet name or sprinkle a little praise.

Yet you burst into his life like a damn firework to the face and he’s never recovered since.

Being nervous is a staple on these calls. He’s heard every justification in the book just as he’s witnessed people use the hotline like they’re robots.

You wanted to talk.

Petra doesn’t send people to him if they want to talk.

(Did she know, somehow, that he needed this?)

Conspiracies aside, the last two weeks became some of the best of his life.

Now you knew his face, and he knew yours.

And Christ, you were beautiful. 

Your voice was one thing — like a soothing balm to his insomnia — but your face nearly took him right the hell out.

Even in the mirror backsplash of the bar, he couldn’t stop staring. Didn’t want to, not when he finally saw what he wanted right in the palm of his hand.

So he was honest.

Honest about his life, his job, his black hole of an existence — maybe to scare you away so you’d choose better than a guy like him.

That he was the first to break the rules.

That he was sorry, because you weren’t looking for more baggage after a shit breakup with a shithead of a guy.

You didn’t care.

So he decided to rip a page out of his goddamn advice book:

Be selfish.

“Well, if you don’t get too wasted with your friends tonight—”

Autopilot.

Everything is on autopilot when he picks up that damn pen and starts to scribble on a napkin, allowing his nervous system to suckerpunch his logic right out the damn window.

“—and you end up going to the gym tomorrow—”

Bail.

Bail, bail, bail, before you make a damn fool of yourself, Levi Ackerman.

He doesn’t.

He straightens his spine, folds the napkin, and reaches for your hand. 

The heat of it almost makes his stomach clench.

If he were bolder, then maybe he’d steal you away from your friends. Keep asking questions to make you talk more. Watch as your eyes light up about your favorite things—

He can’t. Won’t.

You’re with your friends. He’s already taken enough time away from them for you.

“—give me a call.”

Maybe he’s chickenshit for running, but at least there’s a part of him brave enough to leave him his personal cell number in the palm of your hand.

Before you can say anything, he drops some money on the counter to pay for both drinks and a tip and leaves to walk home.

To contemplate.

(Assuming you likely won’t call. He wouldn’t blame you.)

The night air leaves a sobering sting on his cheeks as he steps outside.

It’s considerably quieter than the cramped space of the bar, but cabs bustle in the street.

His pocket vibrates not once but twice.

(So not a text.)

Fishing his phone out, Levi squints at the ‘Unknown Caller’ ID staring up at him.

He swipes right to accept said call, pressing the phone to his ear.

“Hello, Levi Ackerman speaking.”

“Hi, Levi. It’s formerly Scarlet.”

His heart falls out of his ass.

Whipping back around to the tinted windows of the bar, Levi can’t help but look for that now-familiar face.

You’re blocked by an endless sea of conversations and bodies, but he still searches.

“My schedule just opened up,” you tell him from the other side of the line, your voice airy like you hold a secret. “I know it’s a little late for some coffee, but — are you free for some tea now?”

Shit.

Maybe he should be giving the headset for the hotline over to you.

“Depends,” Levi exhales. “Any shop worth a damn is closed at this hour.”

“Shit, you’re right.”

He liked it when you cursed. 

Hell, he liked it when you weren’t afraid to be yourself around him the most.

“There’s a pop-up shop about six floors above yours,” Levi reasons with a shrug he assumes you can’t see; autopilot, “if you don’t mind walking a neighbor home.”

.

.

— —

.

.

    “You said that?”

Hange, now at the brink of teetering off of their chair, gawks.

Levi blinks twice, realizing he’s given more of the story than he wanted to.

That they know it’s serious — dead fucking serious for him, actually — and that you’re his neighbor.

Yeah, he didn’t believe it either until you said yes.

“What?” Levi asks. “Something wrong?”

“No, that was just fucking smooth, dude,” Hange whistles low, impressed. “Pop-a-button-and-open-a-window kinda smooth. Holy shit.” They thumb towards Erwin. “You teach him to talk like that!?”

“Self-taught, I’m afraid,” Erwin hums. “Can’t take the credit.”

Hange flops back into their chair unceremoniously. “Jeeeez.”

“Six floors down, then?”

There’s a rare tint of pride in Erwin’s tone, like there’s a joke somewhere in that question he isn’t saying. 

Levi immediately narrows his eyes.

“Yeah. She’s been my fuckin’ neighbor all this time, if you can believe that.”

He sure as hell can’t. The fact that you’re six floors away — have been — has kept him up at night.

He could run down there right now and show you off to his friends.

He could leave you home-cooked meals if you’re running behind at your office job.

He could do a lot of things, but—

“Is she requesting you to end your time at Scout Services?” Erwin asks, interrupting his trailing thoughts.

Levi’s stormy eyes meet a contemplative, oceanic stare.

“...no.”

A beat passes.

Despite his trepidation, he explains himself.

“She’s not asking me to quit it. Says she gets it, a job’s a job, but I don’t know how true that’ll be in the long run.”

“And you believe her?”

He knows Erwin’s skepticism isn’t unfounded, but it sets a fire in his belly.

Questioning you, the newfound gravity keeping him grounded on planet earth.

(You're just a stranger to him, too, at the end of the day, but you don't feel like one. Not really.)

“I can’t expect anyone to stay neutral about what the fuck it is we do, Erwin," he reasons diplomatically. "I can say everything on my mind and put it on paper, but I’m sure the doubt will still creep in. Everything’s too new to tell. It won’t be easy, but it…”

He sighs, running his hand once more through his straight-and-narrow black hair. 

“I just need you two dumbasses to keep me in check. I can’t—”

Hange frowns, and he hates the sympathetic tone they take when they say his name. 

“Levi—”

“Four Eyes,” Levi interrupts stronger yet weaker in resolve, effectively shutting down their protest, “I can’t fuck this up. So don’t let me.”

The air grows thick, like winding vines corrupting the foundation of a tree.

Levi glances between the two of them, nostrils flaring with unspoken difficulty.

Erwin is the first to nod. Wordlessly, but he does.

Hange sighs with conclusion not a second after and nods, too.

“Am I at least allowed to ask one thing?” they chirp, holding out one slender finger to the sky. “Just one teeny, tiny thing — yes or no.”

A part of him really wants to say no.

A part of him really wants to say this conversation is over before he gives them anymore concrete information about you as he navigates these uncharted waters of being a not-so-normal boyfriend to a very-normal-ass person.

He fights.

Fails.

“...fine,” he grumbles. “The fuck’s the question?”

Hange perks up, all too smug.

“Did the pop-up shop six floors up line work?”

The memory blossoms in the back of his skull.

His body warms as if trapped under an electric blanket, heat setting cranked a little too high. 

Instinctively his eyes flicker to the front door of his apartment.

Like you’ll burst in at any moment with your work bags and stress and the hope that he’ll have the same soothing balm you’ve gifted him, hands at the ready to fix your problems for you.

He hasn’t wanted much.

He’s never wanted much, but—

Shit, if he doesn’t want to be good to you.

“...something like that.”

.

Author's Note:

AHHHH HI EVERYONE! WE'RE AT IT AGAIN WITH MODERN!LEVI SHENANIGANS! How are we feeling to be back?

I seriously cannot believe we're here. I've never done a sequel before, but the demand was overwhelming and I couldn't help but agree: we could do with learning what happens after the final call.

And we will, in this seven (maybe more?) part series. I had to actually break up part one because it got way too large of a chapter, so I promise we'll be picking up right where we left off in P4 -- like, quite literally That Fateful Night in part two.

[inkyrainstorms]

Martian Stan AU - Aftermath & Discovery

The Beginning (1), Aftermath (2) (here), The Journals (3)

Extra! (The Apology)

Ford didn’t know how long it took for him to pry himself off the floor, but it felt like hours later when he managed to trudge his way upstairs, eyes burning and throat raw. There was new blood on his knuckles, and Ford couldn’t remember if it was Stan’s or his own. He’d tried to scrub the blood off of the portal, but most of it had been too high and Ford was so tired.

He couldn’t fall asleep in the basement, he chanted to himself, again and again and again and it only occurred to him once he stood swaying at the top the of the stairs, that is didn’t actually… matter, anymore.

It didn’t matter what Bill did, or didn’t do.

The portal was broken beyond repair. His brother was dead.

The journal is gone. his mind whispered insidiously, and he couldn’t remember if he’d always been so cruel to himself, or if it was a byproduct of Bill. You got what you wanted, Sixer. How does it feel?

Ford hobbled to the bathroom as fast as he could manage, and hurled his guts out into the toilet. When all that came up was acrid bile, though, and Ford wondered idly when we he last ate. It didn’t matter.

None of it mattered, Ford decided firmly, hands clenched on either side of the porcelain bowl so hard that they looked bloodless in the harsh white light. It didn’t matter what he felt, or didn’t feel.

Not anymore.

The journal was gone. That was a good thing, it meant that the portal could never be rebuilt again. Stanley made an honorable… he. He’d made an honorable sacrifi—

Ford hunched over the toilet and heaved again. Nothing came out.

Impossibly, time kept moving.

Ford was left drifting in the current, from room to room, machine to first aid kit to paper to specimen to paper to circling the door of his lab again and again like an anxious sentry. He didn’t process any of it, and eventually, the door was the only thing left in the house that felt truly real. It was the only mystery left that Ford could pay any real mind to, and most of the time he wanted nothing more than burn the whole thing to the ground.

Sitting against the door, head leaned back and staring at the ceiling, Ford searched his mind for something. Anything.

A plan, a goal, fuck, he’d take the will to actually get out of the house and get groceries despite the constant chance of being watched at this rate. There was near nothing left to eat in the cabinets that wasn’t rank with age, and Ford knew he was wasting away like this.

But there was nothing. No part of him cared.

He knew he’d always had the wildest aspirations as a kid and as a young man, that he’d never stop reaching for bigger and better heights, but the light had blinded him with its promise, and now he’d fallen. He’d fallen so far.

He’d said Icarus didn’t flap hard enough, when Fiddleford tried to warn him of his own hubris all those weeks ago. Now he was just glad he wasn’t an English major, because it had taken him all of this just to realize that Icarus had found the sun, been embraced by the promise of warmth, and burned for it.

Trust no one.

Ford traced an idle finger against the freshly bandaged burn on the underside of his hand.

And no one should ever trust you.

…

The worst part, Ford thought to himself as he brewed another pot of coffee and searched for a clean mug, was the uncertainty of it all. There was a grief in loss, of course, but not knowing could be so much worse.

Stanley could still be alive out there, among the creatures of the Nightmare Realm, all alone. He could be dying. He could be dead. He could be sitting on the other side, waiting, hoping Ford could open the portal and bring him home—

Ford slammed down the sole clean  coffee cup he had left hard enough to startle himself, and then sighed.

He’d have to go clean up the remains of the portal, eventually. Before he fell asleep and Bill…

Ford poured out the coffee and leaned heavily against the counter as he took a sharp swig. It burned the whole way down. 

What did he have left that Bill wanted? What reason did Bill have to keep him around if his research was beyond saving, if he couldn’t be threatened or tortured into complying anymore?

The next time he fell asleep…

Ford didn’t know what’d happen to him, and despite everything, damnit, Ford didn’t want to die. He couldn’t let Bill win, couldn’t become another footnote in the history of the world because he was just another one of the poor schmucks who fell for Bill Cipher’s lies.

Taking another gulp of liquid courage, Ford pulled his coat tight around himself and marched to the door of his lab before he could talk himself out of it.

Forget not sleeping in the lab. Ford couldn’t sleep at all until he found a way to sever Bill from his mind for good. Project Mentem had been a bust last he’d checked, but it was worth another shot. What else hadn’t he tried? There was something… a protection spell? A charm?

Ford contemplated his options all the way down the stairs, one hand keeping him steady on the wall while the other held his mug. 

He still wasn’t sure exactly what he wanted yet, or what his next step was, but Ford could do this. He just had to secure his mind, like he’d planned, and then get rid of the blasted portal once and for all. Nothing had changed.

Nothing had changed. Nothing had changed. Nothing, nothing, except that Ford felt hollow where there must’ve once been something warm and vital in his chest. He didn’t know if he’d ever feel warm again. He didn’t deserve to.

Ford remembered a detail about sleep deprivation, as the elevator neared the basement level again and his heart dropped in time with the doors hissing open. Hallucinations were a common byproduct of the resulting sensory overload and exhaustion. They could take auditory or visual form, though visual hallucinations were a more common symptom by over 52%.

That was the only explanation he could conjure for the faint singing that echoed through the dark, cavernous sub-level before him. 

“It’s not real,” Ford whispered to himself, hands a vice around the coffee mug. He felt cold. “Auditory hallucinations are an expected and well documented symptom to experience in conditions less dire than these. Focus on your intellect, Stanford. Focus, focus, it is not real.”

For a long stretch of time, seconds, or perhaps minutes, Fords feet were glued to the floor of the elevator. No matter how hard he tried, no matter what he said or did, the singing, or the static, remained steady and quiet. 

It wouldn’t go away unless Ford made it. 

Finally, Ford forced himself to creep into the basement, and then the control room to set his mug down on the desk. The music was louder now, more distinct here than it had been before. Had Ford left a radio on down here? Was that it?

Holding his breath, Ford crept around the trashed room, checking behind spare sheets of metal that had been propped up against the walls, kneeling to look under the control panels, and then behind them too. All the while, the music droned on, buzzing and humming and settling under his skin like an itch. 

-any- wind blows—

It got louder as he neared the very back of the room, the words filtering through the humming static and becoming clear. Ford couldn’t deny it anymore. That was a voice. He shivered hard, jolting like ice had been pressed to the back of his neck, and hurried forward. 

-really matter to me… To me. 

There was a pile of debris, in the back of the control room, farthest from the door where he’d entered. Stanley must’ve crashed into it, when Ford and him had been… when he’d…

-just killed a man —a gun against his head…

Ford slowed his pace, staring down at the dented metal plates and machinery that had fallen loose in a heap on the floor, the stray wires and screws jutting out of the mess every which way. Slowly, Ford sank to his knees and pressed his aching palms onto the cool floor beneath him.

He could hear the singing now. Warbling, staticky. Familiar.

-Life had just begun, and now I’ve gone and thrown it all away.

Ford choked on his next inhale, thin and trembly as it was, and searched through the wreckage with wide eyes. 

There. Nestled between a dented panel with half its screws undone, and a jumble of wires and smaller panels of sheet metal, was the source of the sound. 

For a long, long moment, all Ford did was stare.

Oh mama… oh ohh oh. Didn’t mean to make you cry.

If I’m not back again this time tomorrow…

Ford’s hands trembled as he reached out, carefully prying the radio out of the scrap heap and holding it up in the dim light.

Carry on, carry on…

As if nothing really matters…

The voice faded out. Static.

Ford set the radio down on his lap, gently, as it would shatter into a million pieces otherwise, and pressed a trembling hand to his mouth.

“Stanley?” Ford choked out, and it was like trying to breathe glass. But he had to know, he had to, because— because…

He sat there, dully staring down at the radio Fiddleford had cobbled together months ago, when they’d still been in the implementations stage of the data and blueprints they’d collected, when the preliminary tests had begun. A device to send and collect waves and other information from beyond this dimension without actually opening a rift.

And here it was. In Fords hands, dented and scratched and still whole despite everything. Ford had turned his sights completely to the portal before the it’s completion, since Bill had deemed the entire endeavor a waste of time and energy and an ineffective outlet for his genius.

Fiddleford must’ve completed it, back when he was still just as enthralled in the project as Ford was. He missed his old friend, but Fiddleford was likely back home by now, in California to try and reconnect with his wife and child. As bitter as Ford was, he hoped Fiddleford was successful. His old friend deserved as much and more. 

There was no reply to Ford’s question, except, Ford brought the radio to his ear and strained to listen through the faint static. Was that… humming? 

Doo- doo doo, yeah, no poindexter, I‘m done, man. That’s the last song of the evening, I’m not paid for overtime. 

Moses, wish I were getting paid for this.

Ford jumped, wincing at the sudden burst of noise loud enough to make his ears ring, then processed what Stanley, because that had to be Stanley, had said.

“Stanley! Where are you? Are you in the Nightmare Realm? You must be… what sort of method did you find to transmit your signal? Are you al—“

But Stanley continued speaking as though he hadn’t heard him. A thrill of irritation  went through him. Was Stanley ignoring him? Was this some kind of petty revenge tactic?

When’d that song come out anyway? ‘75? 

He hummed.

Sounds about right.

Ford shook the radio and bit back a growl, before he remembered that the technology in his hands was damaged and sorely in need of a repair and upgrade, and loosened his grip again. He set it down in his lap.

“Stanley, I need you to take this seriously, please, for once.”

Wow, that song was everywhere back then, wasn’t it? I remember thinkin’ Ford probably liked it when it came out, wherever he was. The nerd was probably in college.

“Stanley?” he tried again, but he wasn’t expecting a reply anymore. Stanley soldiered on, rambling about everything and nothing and Ford could almost hear the smile in his voice if it didn’t sound so tired. 

Hell, where’d I first hear it? Must’ve been over at a gas station in… eh, Kansas? Somewhere over there, the big ol’ middle states. 

We sure aren’t in Kansas anymore.

Ahh, those were the times. Me, the open sky, and so, so much dirt in my hair. Seriously, where did the dirt come from. I roll around in one haystack and suddenly i’m fishing filth out of my hair a month later.

Stanley went quiet again, before he laughed. 

Aw man, I actually like this story. Buckle in folks, and I’m taking us back to that weirdly cold summer day in Kansas, where I had to steal 5 prized chickens. For some reason.

Look man, when someone pays you a hundred bucks and tells you he wants chickens, you don’t ask questions. 

Anyways, I’d been-“

For the past few… well, it had to have been days since Stanley fell through the portal by this point, if Fords state was anything to go off of, Ford’s mind had been eerily blank. He’d been a hollowed out shell of his former self, a ghost in his home and life that held onto the living plane by only the barest threads and pure spite.

It was like a switch had flipped. Ford’s fingers drummed on the outside of the radio as he forced himself to his feet, mind whirling at a hundred miles per hour and making calculations and theories and discarding some and contemplating others, and he was nearly jittering as he walked out of the control room entirely. He’d need to find a way to secure this side of the portal from Bills influence, recollect his journals, and then, he was bringing his brother home.

He stopped just before he got into the elevator and turned around to stare down the wrecked portal that loomed overhead. The once perfect inverted triangle, now ruined and warped nearly beyond recognition.

He grinned in a way that was more just like baring his teeth.

“You may be a god, Cipher, and you may think you can control me, but never forget. I am a scientist.”

The portal stood dead as it had been, but Ford didn’t care. He whirled around and stalked into the elevator. He felt more awake than he had in days. And he had research to collect and a demon to banish.

Stanley was still talking, as the elevator began to shudder and rise, and Ford’s adrenaline shot began to ever-so-slightly wane. Something about… attack pigeons?

-And when I finally think I’m in the clear, I duck around one of the hay bales and come face to face with, and I’m not kidding here, a cow wearing heavy duty armor, like a helmet and shit the guy in ‘Nam would wear. It even had holes for the ears!

There was a strange sound then, and Ford realized with a start that it was coming from him. He was laughing. It wasn’t even than funny, really, but something about Stan delivery made Ford wheeze. 

When was the last time he’d laughed? It must’ve been before this whole thing started, when he’d been with Fiddleford or B—

The laughter died in his throat. Oblivious to Fords inner turmoil, Stan kept on jabbering.

And there I was, 5 chickens smuggled into my coat and in my bag —and if you’ve never tried to carry 5 chickens, never do, it’s hard as hell and not worth it at all— staring down ol’ Bessie. 

And then, because this fucking farm couldn’t get any weirder, the cow started moo-ing like it was setting off a tornado siren, and all the other cows in the whole place started mooing in sync too. It was fucking terrifying man.

They must’ve been calling the attack pigeons, because those suckers came back, and they started dive-bombing my sorry ass, and really, that was when I reached my limit.

I dove into the hay bale like a damn football player going for the end line, and even though it was by far the itchiest thing to ever happen to me, it saved me from death-by pecking so I’ll take take it. 

The itchiest, of course, save for my stint in Albuquerque.

Ford could almost imagine Stan shaking his head as he paused again. With a start, he realized he was still smiling.

Just. Don’t try selling pillows in Albuquerque is all I’ll say.

Stan gave an audible shudder. 

So many feathers… And itch powder. The itch powder didn’t help. 

Ford couldn’t help the chuckle that slipped out of him at that.

Tags! (I’m sure I’m forgetting someone, pls tell me if you want to be on the list! Or just follow the tag that also works) @aroace-get-out-of-my-face @pleasantartisanhottea @littlelilliana15 @empressofsamoyeds @pinesfamilycatsau

Super Epic Secret Surprise!

[rippleclan]

RippleClan: Moon 90, Part 1

Estherfern drips an infection-fighting concoction into Mosspounce’s eyes, not paying attention to his protests. She needs to stop the infection before it gets any worse.

[Image ID: Estherfern and Honeybuzz stand around Mosspounce, treating him while Washington watches in the back. Under Mosspounce, it says + INFECTION. Under Honeybuzz, it says - CONDITION: GRIEVING.]

"Shouldn't you be doing some sort of ritual?" Mosspounce groaned as Estherfern shoved his chin up. His bloody eyes stared at nothing, yellow pus pooling around his torn eyelids. Pale white light drifted inside the medicine den, bouncing off the paw-deep snow covering camp.

"Like what, contact StarClan for medical advice?" Estherfern muttered, removing the leather lid from an empty bottle. "Apparently StarClan only has the energy for one proper channeling a year, and we spent that on Currentsmoke's jaw. We're doing everything we know we can, Mosspounce." Estherfern grabbed the bottle in her jaws and lowered it into the warm pot beside her. A freshly brewed concoction sat within the pot, packed full of infection-killing herbs. Estherfern dipped the bottle into the concoction, accidentally getting some on her lips. She tilted her head to the side to keep the botte face-up. Then she slowly brought it over Mosspounce's face and poured a splash of the concoction onto his eyes.

Mosspounce hissed, flinching back, but Honeybuzz was there to help. He stood behind Mosspounce and gently shoved the injured caretaker back into place, allowing Estherfern to set the bottle down and massage the concoction in. Mosspounce's claws poked his nest.

"Your body is killing itself in an effort to kill this infection," Estherfern huffed. "This will give your body an ally in that fight. So stay still!" Estherfern removed her paws from Mosspounce's eyes and rubbed them clean on the medicine den's leather floor. Mosspounce groaned as Honeybuzz grabbed fresh bandages and wrapped them around Mosspounce's face.

"Will he be alright?" Estherfern hid her surprise well as she faced the cat resting a few tail-lengths away, a splint and bandages wrapped around his back leg. Estherfern had truthfully forgotten Washington was there. The old tom (and she truly meant old, she had never met a cat who claimed to live over two hundred moons before) watched Mosspounce carefully, gaze sharp and twitching as though he were the one with a concoction burning into his eyes.

Washington had not said much in the quarter moon since his arrival to RippleClan, clearly mourning those he lost in the shipwreck offshore. Remnants of that ship now reinforced part of the medicine den's walls. There had been so much wood, in fact, that the caretakers were able to take apart a decaying portion of the medicine den's back wall and build it into the hollows of the main shipwreck, allowing more room for herbal preparation, rituals, and sleeping patients. Washington now slept in the remains of his former home, silently watching his new home swirl about.

"We're doing what we can," Honeybuzz promised, releasing Mosspounce. "Do you need something, Washington?"

"No, no, I'm comfortable," Washington muttered.

"I'm not," Mosspounce groaned, curling into a ball. "Can I have something for my pain?" His whiskers twitched as his face squirmed, biting back a mrow of frustration.

"Can you fight through for a bit longer?" Honeybuzz asked. "Troutpool and Weevilsight should be back with more willow bark soon."

"You know what would shut him up and keep him warm?" Estherfern muttered, rubbing her paws clean on the snow outside. "A smoke-den."

"You know we don't do that, Estherfern," Honeybuzz sighed. Estherfern could feel his disapproving stare against the back of her head.

"Forgive the interupption," Washington croaked in the back, "but if a smoke-den, as you called it, could help this kit with his pain, why not try it?"

"Kit?" Mosspounce groaned. "I'm a father!"

"Smoke-dens are a tradition in SlugClan, one of the other Clans," Honeybuzz explained, joining Washington's side. "They burn herbs like catmint and valerian to enter an overly relaxed, trance-like state. Downstar always saw it as a waste of herbs, so we don't use smoke-dens in RippleClan."

"You might not understand it," Washington sighed, "but back on my ship, my humans would sit around with sticks in their mouths, blowing smoke at one another. They were at their calmest when they did that. Not a pleasant smell, no, but it's a wonderful feeling to be sitting on a human's lap as they relax, listening to their purr." Honeybuzz squirmed at Washington's description, yet somewhere in Estherfern's memories, she could remember a human's paw stroking her back, soothing her into quiet dreams.

"What is it like to be on a ship?" Mosspounce asked, slightly lifting his head from his ball of shame. "What are they like when they're floating?"

"Well, not everyone likes the way the ground shifts under your paws," Washington mused, "but I'm a ship-cat, through and through. I love it."

"Tell me more," Mosspounce begged. He shifted toward Washington's scent.

"Estherfern." Outside the den, Puddlewhisper and Waspdawn stood in the snow, pelts dull in the shiny light. The weight of Waspdawn's infection was evident in the way his footing seemed unsteady on flat ground, yet he matched his sister's blank, focused expression.

"Are you going to rest now, Waspdawn?" Estherfern muttered. Behind her, Honeybuzz helped Mosspounce over to Washington's nest. It could have been the snow-light's reflection, but Estherfern swore Washington had a sparkle in his eyes as he dove into stories of massive ships coursing across the sea.

"Do you have the fur samples we collected from Potterypool?" Puddlewhisper asked.

"Troutpool's kept them safe," Estherfern promised. She crossed over to Troutpool's nest, covered in plush leather expertly tanned by Rattlepelt. Estherfern shuffled through the thick layers of the nest until she found a small vial. She grabbed a scrap of leather the clerics used to wipe medicine from their paws and lips. She placed the scrap in front of Puddlewhisper and Waspdawn, opened the vial, and carefully poured out the contents. Strands of dark fur fluttered out.

Puddlewhisper and Waspdawn nodded to each other in some secret littermate language. Puddlewhisper jogged off to the bonfire in the center of camp, which projected warmth into all the dens. She grabbed a dry stick beside the fire. She carefully tilted the stick into the flames. The fire licked the tip of the stick and climbed on. Puddlewhisper hurried back to the medicine den, head tilted hard to the right to keep the tip of the torch aloft. She plunged the torch into the snow and sand a safe distance from the wooden shipwreck. Waspdawn tugged the leather scrap closer to the light. Honeybuzz stood beside Estherfern, focused more on the dangerously close torch than the codekeepers' work.

Puddlewhisper carefully pawed at a few strands of fur. With the firelight, even Estherfern could better make out each strand's details. The fur at Puddlewhisper's paw was black, perhaps dark gray, and fairly short. Yet there were other strands beside Waspdawn that were long and the color of dark leather. They all looked the same without such clear light illuminating through every hair.

"You were right, Puddlewhisper," Waspdawn muttered. "These samples don't come from the same cat." Estherfern's shoulders tensed.

"What does that mean?" Honeybuzz asked softly. Puddlewhisper pulled the torch out of the ground and submerged it into the snow, quickly dousing the flame. Smoke drifted from the suddenly melted slush.

"It's not wise to make assumptions," Puddlewhisper sighed, "but we pulled these samples from Potterypool's claws and wounds. We can't determine the context, but we can say that Potterypool fought with more than one cat the day she died. We may be looking for two killers."

(Mosspounce: 51, male, caretaker, adventurous, talented fire-starter)

(Estherfern: 124, female, cleric, adventurous, great mediator, prophecy seeker)

(Honeybuzz: 38, male, cleric, daring, skilled toolsmith, good teacher)

(Washington: 218, male, elder, nervous, good mediator)

(Puddlewhisper: 56, trans female, codekeeper, righteous, keen eye, ghost sense)

(Waspdawn: 56, male, codekeeper, strict, learner of lore, clue finder)

Gingerpaw asks to be apprenticed to Estherfern, while Frostpaw becomes Rabbitjoy’s newest artisan apprentice. Honeybuzz gives Gingerpaw a maple seed necklace.

[Image ID: Gingerpaw and Frostpaw are now both apprentices, though Gingerpaw has a maple seed tucked by his ear. Under Gingerpaw, it reads LEVEL UP! GINGERKIT → GINGERPAW, CHARMING → CHILDISH, + NEW SKILL: MOSS-BALL HUNTER, + ACCESSORY: MAPLE SEED. Under Frostpaw, it says LEVEL UP! FROSTKIT → FROSTPAW, QUIET → STRICT.]

(Gingerpaw: 6, male, cleric apprentice, childish, curious about humans, moss-ball hunter)

(Frostpaw: 6, female, artisan apprentice, strict, lover of stories)

Puddlewhisper is determined to solve her little sister’s murder.

[Image ID: Puddlewhisper, Vervaincough, and Venturedapple watch a brown rosette molly with blue eyes run off with a brown speckled kit. Puddlewhisper yowls "Hold on!" Under the kit, it says NEW PLAYER: QUICK, 0, FEMALE, KNOW-IT-ALL. Under the brown molly, it says NEW PLAYER: NIMBLE, 45, FEMALE, RIGHTEOUS, GOOD SWIMMER.]

---

Everything was bitter. The last three days had been so bitterly cold that even Scaleripple and Venturedapple, with two of the thickest pelts in the Clan, couldn't stay out of camp for long. The mice and squirrels had been eating something, something that made Puddlewhisper's mouth curl no matter how well the caretakers cooked the meat. And that was without mentioning the way Puddlewhisper's teeth ached to dig into guilty flesh. The bitterness had reached her heart, pushing her into the snow.

Another look around. Another try. For Lightningrunner.

Puddlewhisper stalked through the snow. She placed her paws in the prints left by previous patrols, reducing the sound of crunching snow to a mutter. Her ears turned with every creaking branch or scuttering leaf. Her tail waved back and forth, a reflection of her rising frustration. She kept at a slow pace, though, sniffing at the base of a fir.

She could see Battle Beach through the trees, although the sand had been consumed by snow, blurring the border between the forest and the shoreline. The fur on the back of Puddlewhisper's neck itched. Phantom fangs pierced her spine. It was so bad that she had to stop and scratch her neck, sending a few tufts of winter fluff floating into the snow.

"We've been here half the morning, Puddlewhisper," a voice groaned from the trees. "I don't think anyone's going to show up." Two pairs of gray eyes peered at Puddlewhisper from the snow-heavy needles of a black spruce. Vervaincough and Venturedapple leaped out of the tree and landed gracefully beside Puddlewhisper.

"Stars damn it," Puddlewhisper hissed, settling her itchy body. "I was certain someone would stop me from 'confirming my theory'. I suppose it wasn't likely to succeed."

"Because they know you're smarter than to talk about 'almost solving the murders' in the middle of camp," Venturedapple muttered.

"It was worth a try, Venturedapple," Vervaincough snapped, her tail smacking against Venturedapple's half-furred tail. Venturedapple dipped his head to the mourning molly.

"You can go back to camp if you want, Venturedapple," Puddlewhisper sighed. "I'm going to look around more. Maybe I can figure out how Lightningrunner's killer managed to get away from the rest of the patrol so easily…" Puddlewhisper studied the layout of the trees, looking for an easy hiding spot.

"I'm staying too, then," Vervaincough huffed, standing next to Puddlewhisper. "There has to be something I can tell my family when I get back."

"It wouldn't be right to leave you two alone," Venturedapple sighed, shaking his head. "We're too close to the river."

"Do you and Lemmy still think a Witch Hunter killed them?" Puddlewhisper asked. "There's no way a Witch Hunter could have killed Lightningrunner and returned to the human settlement without leaving some type of trail."

"Actually, no," Venturedapple said simply, sitting at the base of the spruce. "The cats who follow Pearl wouldn't have a reason to do this. However, there were some cats who were loyal to Achilles when he and Pearl fought for the title of Witch Hunter General. Perhaps the killer is one of the minority who still view the Clans as witches to be exterminated."

"I can see why you left them," Vervaincough huffed, fluffing her pelt against a bitter breeze whistling through the trees. "I wouldn't want to live in RippleClan if a power struggle like that happened."

"I won't reject the possibility that an outsider killed Potterypool," Puddlewhisper admitted, "but Lightningrunner? No, I'm sorry. It had to be a RippleClan cat. There's no other way they could have escaped." Somewhere behind Puddlewhisper, a heavy weight crunched into the snow. A pawstep. Puddlewhisper's ears swiveled. There it was again. This time Vervaincough and Venturedapple heard it. They both stood tall, ears turned the same way as Puddlewhisper.

Puddlewhisper put her tail to her mouth, silencing the patrol. Crunch. Another pawstep. The three codekeepers dropped. Puddlewhisper in the lead, they followed the sound further into the trees. Crunch.

There! A figure to match the sound. For a moment, Puddlewhisper thought it was Rapidleaf, what with the dark brown fur and blue eyes. But no, this was not Rapidleaf; this molly was younger, nimbler, with rosettes sprinkling her pelt. The stranger reeked of milk and afterbirth; a queen? A recently kitted queen, as well. Despite her thin body, her belly swelled with milk and had yet to fully shrink from pregnancy. She stalked a squirrel digging at the snow, searching for its autumn nuts.

"Halt!" Puddlewhisper called, standing up. The queen jumped, back arching violently. She hissed, showing off her yellow teeth. The squirrel scrambled up a spruce. The queen darted past her lost catch, slamming into the snow with each frantic step.

"Stop!" Vervaincough yowled. She tumbled past a dead bush and sprinted after the queen.

"Vervaincough, pull back!" Puddlewhisper ordered.

"She's getting away!" Vervaincough snapped, skitting through the snow. Her wild gaze bounced between Puddlewhisper and the disappearing queen.

"She's got the strongest scent trail I've ever smelled," Puddlewhisper huffed, nose curling at the intensity of it. "Don't waste your energy running. With her scent and her pawprints, we won't lose her." Puddlewhisper once again led Vervaincough and Venturedapple on, but this time she kept at a light jog, letting her nose do the work. Venturedapple, obediant as ever, walked alongside the gray molly.

"What are you thinking?" Venturedapple asked, trying to look through Puddlewhisper's eyes.

"I think if she's as new a queen as she smells," Puddlewhisper explained, "she's made her nest not far from here. If that's the case, she might have seen something that could help us." Were it better days, Puddlewhisper would have suggested inviting the stranger to RippleClan, provide her a safe place to nurse her kits. But the thought lingered only for a moment before memories of dead, red fur replaced it and Puddlewhisper's heart hardened.

The queen's panicked trail headed towards the Great Northern River, as Puddlewhisper suspected. The stranger's pawprints reappeared on the other side of the stepping stones. Ice glistened across the surface of the stones where they peeked above the freezing current. Puddlewhisper stopped and licked warmth into her paws. Vervaincough pushed ahead, hopping onto the first slippery stone. She jumped from stone to stone, allowing the momentum of her landing to propel her to the next. She landed on the opposite bank with nary a stumble.

Puddlewhisper crossed next. She took her time in her crossing, merely stepping from stone to stone. Her claws poked at the ice. Even though she warmed her paws, it was hard to feel the pads when chilling mist sprayed up from below.

Her back paw slipped at the edge of a stone. Her hind legs fell into the river. The water was shallow and couldn't pull her away, but a paralyzing cold whipped up her spine. Puddlewhisper's legs shook as she tried to stand.

Suddenly, gentle fangs grabbed Puddlewhisper's scruff. Venturedapple stood behind her, his long fur dragging in the current. He shoved Puddlewhisper onto the stepping stone and nudged her back to her paws. Puddlewhisper shivered violently, but nodded deeply. Venturedapple merely dipped his head and crossed past Puddlewhisper, unphased by the cold water and ignoring the stepping stones.

Snow stuck to Puddlewhisper's wet flank when she and Venturedapple made it over to Vervaincough. Puddlewhisper shook out her pelt, spraying Vervaincough. Luckily the queen's trail was still clear and stinking. Puddlewhisper and Vervaincough hurried alongside the queen's pawprints, too focused on their mission to worry about Puddlewhisper's health.

They slowed and crouched as the queen and her nest came into view. Dead grass and orange needles curled around the queen and her three newborn kits. The queen gently groomed a brown kit whose pelt made it clear they would look just like their mother in time. Two other kits mewed and whined for milk; a silver spotted kit and a pale ginger kitten with a nose so pink and pale that it blended into the rest of their fur. They looked healthy from what Puddlewhisper could tell. She, Vervaincough, and Venturedapple lurked under the low-hanging branches of yet another black spruce. The queen purred and panted, glancing behind her.

"Let's try not to scare her again," Puddlewhisper advised her companions. "We can't chase her all day."

"I recognize her," Venturedapple whispered. "Her name is Nimble. She used to live in the human settlement. She left with Achilles. He was her mate." Achilles… he had long brown fur. Could he be the cat Potterypool encountered in the moments before her death?

"Isn't Achilles really old for her?" Vervaincough groaned, sneering at the thought.

"Not every cat has the same concern about age as the Clans seem to," Venturedapple muttered, shaking his head. Yet as he did so, he knocked into a snow-burdened branch. A clump of snow fell from the tree with a loud thud.

The queen, Nimble, ripped herself from her litter's affections. She stood between her kits and the codekeepers like a crumbling wall, unable to stop shaking. Despite the light bouncing off the snow, Nimble's pupils were wide, utterly terrified. Puddlewhisper groaned in her mind.

"We aren't here to hurt you," Puddlewhisper promised, crawling out from under the tree. "We just want to ask you some questions."

"No," Nimble hissed. "No, you're lying. You're here to kill me."

"We don't want that," Vervaincough said as she and Venturedapple joined Puddlewhisper. "Did you see a red molly out here last moon?" That was the wrong thing to say, as Nimble unseathed her claws.

"She did it!" Nimble yowled. "I saw the two of them. They killed my mate, they didn't care! They sent you here to silence me!" Nimble's fear scent overwhelmed her milk-scent. Her kits whined, unfamiliar with the nose-curling stench.

"Tell us what happened," Venturedapple snapped, the tip of his fangs peeking out into the harsh light. Nimble spun and shoved her face into the nest. She emerged with her brown and silver kits dangling in her mouth. The pale ginger kit cried, tiny paws flailing for their missing littermates. Yet Nimble, ears low and tail tucked, simply ran. She stumbled over an exposed root, the exhaustion of kitting slowing her down. As she dove over the root, the silver kit slipped from her jaws. The kitten's tiny head smacked into the buldging root. They landed in the crunchy snow and wailed louder than Puddlewhisper thought a newborn ever could.

"Hold on!" Puddlewhisper cried, but Nimble wouldn't stop. She weaved through the trees, whimpering until her abandoned kit's screams drowned her out. Puddlewhisper's memories flung her back, back to that night when she woke up to screeching and screaming echoing from the nursery, unsure if her nieces, her nephews, her sisters and mother, if any of them were alright. That night, even as Downstar explained the horrors of the Dark Forest that caused such a disaster, all Puddlewhisper could think was, I'll never let a kit scream like that, ever again. They'll never hurt like that as long as I draw breath.

Puddlewhisper flew over the exposed root and cradled her paws around the silver newborn. There was no blood, thank StarClan, but the kit, a tom, still wailed and screamed, his nose-sized paws digging at the sky. Puddlewhisper pulled the kitten close to her chest, forcing herself to purr. She groomed the tom's tiny head. The tom began to soothe himself, rooting into Puddlewhisper's fur with painful whimpers. As he quieted, the pitiful mews of his other abandoned sibling became the loudest thing in the forest.

"One of you check on that kit already!" Puddlewhisper snapped at Vervaincough and Venturedapple, who stared dumbfounded at the silver kitten. Venturedapple, at least, pulled himself out of the stupor and obeyed Puddlewhisper's order. He crawled into the nest and nosed the pale ginger kit.

"It's a molly," Venturedapple explained. "She seems healthy. Just upset."

"She left them," Vervaincough muttered, staring at Nimble's trail. "She left her kits behind. They, they could die without her!"

"That's why we're taking them back to camp, right now," Puddlewhisper hissed, lifting the silver kit back over the exposed root.

"What about Nimble?" Venturedapple asked.

"She'll never tell us what we need to know if she thinks we're out to kill her," Puddlewhisper growled. "We'll find her eventually. The clerics need to see this kit. We're going home, right now. Grab his sister and follow me."

For the first time in an entire moon, Puddlewhisper didn't think about her sister's murder. She could only think of the two newborns beside her, whining for their mother.

[Image ID: Puddlewhisper stands with a silver speckled kit and a pale ginger tabby kit. Puddlewhisper says "What kind of mother is she if she only saved one kit? Someone should put these two first." Under the silver kit, it says NEW PLAYER: ICEKIT, 0, MALE, UNRULY. Under the pale ginger kit, it says NEW PLAYER: PEARKIT, 0, FEMALE, QUIET.]

With no nursing queens to feed the two newcomers, Carnationspeckle quickly set to work brewing kitten soup while Currentsmoke built a nest in the nursery. Vervaincough and Venturedapple met with Waspdawn, Oilstripe, and Downstar in the leader's den while Puddlewhisper stayed with the silver and pale ginger kits, warming them by the bonfire. Troutpool carefully examined the silver tom's head while Puddlewhisper made sure his sister didn't crawl into the fire.

"I don't see any signs of injury," Troutpool muttered, "and he seems to be doing well. I can monitor him, but I don't think he's hurt. Just a little knock on the head, I believe." Troutpool licked the tom's head, chuckling. Shrewflame and Whitepaw hovered over Puddlewhisper, trying to get a good view of the newborns.

"They're adorable," Whitepaw gasped, eyes sparkling. "Do they need anything?"

"Some space," Puddlewhisper huffed, batting at the two brothers. "Don't you have chores to attend to?"

"Well forgive our curiosity," Shrewflame grumbled, guiding Whitepaw back. The rest of the Clan were able to contain themselves and give Puddlewhisper room to breathe. If they weren't discussing the day's events, they were trying to listen to Downstar's meeting (only for Cobaltchaser, guarding the den, to remind them it was private).

"Once Currentsmoke's done in the nursery, we can move them in," Troutpool sighed. She sat beside Puddlewhisper and warmed her whiskers. Puddlewhisper pulled the kits close to her. They sensed her warmth and turned their noses into her pelt.

"You seem like a natural," Troutpool hummed. Puddlewhisper's ears dipped. She stared at the fire, forcing her pelt to stay smooth. Troutpool tucked in her tail and quickly added, "I'm sorry, I didn't think that through. They just seem to like you, that's what I mean." Puddlewhisper stared at the kits. The silver tom looked like he could be Puddlewhisper's son. The molly looked more like Waspdawn's kit, a thought that brought out a purr. It did seem natural, didn't it? But Puddlewhisper's tail flicked against the ground, a clear sign of her thoughts.

"Can I admit something to you?" Puddlewhisper asked softly.

"A cleric never reveals what her Clanmate says in confidence," Troutpool promised, sitting taller. Puddlewhisper curled her tail over the kits.

"I hated Elmsprout for having kits," Puddlewhisper muttered. She waited for backlash, for a horrified gasp, but Troutpool stayed quiet. "Gingerpaw and Frostpaw are going to be wonderful cats, and Lavendertwist adores being a father. But when I saw Elmsprout nursing her litter, I hated her for it. I wanted to be nursing kits in the nursery. All the mothers in this Clan seem so happy to be in the nursery, and I would give up anything to be one of them. But if I had children by blood, I could only stand to the side while another molly gave birth to them. I wouldn't really be their mother."

"Yes you would," Troutpool insisted, putting her tail on Puddlewhisper's back. "They would call you their mother."

"Yes," Puddlewhisper groaned, "but didn't Oilstripe feel awkward with you, knowing you and her shared no blood? It's a similar feeling." Troutpool's ears tilted back slightly. "I can't be the mother I want to be."

"I'm sorry I can't change that," Troutpool sighed. "If it helps, though, I think your concern would make you a great mother, in whatever way that happens." Troutpool gently nudged the silver kit, but the newborn was too absorbed in the warmth of Puddlewhisper's belly fur. "Are you going to try Nimble and return her kits?"

"She put her fear over her kits," Puddlewhisper snapped. "She left these two to die. What kind of mother is she if she only saved one kit? Someone should put these two first."

"What if Downstar orders you to give them back?" Troutpool asked softly.

"She won't," Puddlewhisper said. The tension in her voice disturbed the nestled kits. She quickly licked each of their little bodies and settled their hearts.

"Then I can't think of anyone better to raise them," Troutpool purred. "I think StarClan approves. Your… Ripplefern's spirit is watching. She looks happy." Puddlewhisper's pelt tingled. She stared at an empty spot in camp. She saw no ghostly shapes, but some deep instinct told her that her sister was right there, keeping watch, just as Troutpool described.

"We don't know exactly when they were born," Puddlewhisper hummed, studying the kits… her kits. "I don't think it would be wrong to give them names now."

"Can I help?" Troutpool asked, ears perking up.

"You can help with the molly," Puddlewhisper said, "but I have the perfect name for the tom. Icekit." Just like the ice she encountered on her way to meet him.

"Cute!" Troutpool said. "The molly's so round and plump, she deserves a round name. Maybe a fruit, or a seed, maybe even a mushroom! There are a lot that match her color. Hen-of-the-woods, porcini mushrooms, maple flowers, pears, maybe a squash, like the sort WheatClan steals—"

"Wait," Puddlewhisper said, raising her tail for the cleric to pause. "What's a pear?"

"Oh, they grow them in the human settlement!" Troutpool explained. "Lemmy told me about them. They grow on trees and they're shaped like rattles. The humans love to eat them." Hmm, pears…

"I like Pearkit," Puddlewhisper decided. She stuck her face between her son and daughter and nuzzled them both.

Yes. In the midst of chaos, this felt more natural than anything.

(Puddlewhisper: 56, trans female, codekeeper, righteous, keen eye, ghost sense)

(Venturedapple: 78, male, codekeeper, cold, eloquent speaker)

(Vervaincough: 25, female, codekeeper, insecure, understands nature, good mediator)

(Nimble: 45, female, loner, righteous, good swimmer)

(Quick: 0, female, kit, know-it-all)

(Icekit: 0, male, kit, unruly)

(Pearkit: 0, female, kit, quiet)

(Troutpool: 51, female, cleric, insecure, ghost sight)

(Whitepaw: 7, male, historian apprentice, nervous, active imagination)

(Shrewflame: 14, male, teacher, loyal, fast as the wind)

[wileys-russo]

a date to remember II m.earps x reader

kinda love this, kinda hate this? but there is an appaling lack of love and fics for my girl mearps, shes fit as fk and i will take no slander

a date to remember II m.earps

4.17K words

mary's eyes slowly fluttered open as the faint aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafted around the bedroom. with a stretch and a grunt the woman swung herself out of bed, quickly noticing you were no longer soundly asleep beside her, your side of the bed cold where your body had once laid entangled with her own.

stepping into her slippers the brunette quietly padded downstairs, blinking tiredly and wrapping her arms around herself at the chilly autumn morning. she wasn't sure what the time actually was but it had to be early given the bitter frost speckled across the windows of her manchester flat.

her nose guiding her she made a beeline right for the kitchen, craving a coffee to try and kick start her out of her half asleep state. rounding the corner the keeper paused in the doorway of the kitchen, admiring for a moment as you stood at the stove facing away from her. 

her last name stretched across your shoulder blades you'd as usual worn an old jersey of hers to bed, the sleeves a few inches too long you'd now rolled them up to your elbows, always careful not to damage your girlfriends kits when she let you wear them when you stole them.

seeing you wearing her last name had always done something to mary even when the two of you were only friends and you'd come to her games to cheer her on, cheekily buying an earps jersey before the game without telling her.

she was both flattered and impressed at the sneaky surprise as she'd spotted you sat with the rest of her friends and family, and for mary that was the beginning of where she'd had the abrupt realization that she didn't care for you as simply just a friend.

but fast forward to now seeing you wander around the kitchen with earps spread proudly across your back only made her mind drift to the ring that sat hidden in her kit bag, the one place she knew you'd never go snooping, forever claiming it smelled like damp gloves and sweat you steered well clear, making it the ideal hiding spot.

alessia had gone with her to help to pick the ring out weeks ago, rachel and millie assisted via facetime, and ever since it had felt like everyone had been pestering mary insistently about when she was going to actually use the ring.

there wasn't a single doubt in mary's mind that she wanted you as her wife, that wasn't the cause for her hesitation by any means. entering her thirties now she knew she wanted to settle down and having been head over heels in love with you for years she knew you were her one.

so it wasn't and wouldn't ever be doubt or cold feet which held her up from popping the question.

what it was, was having seen for almost the entirety of knowing you just how much of a hopeless romantic sap you were, forever swooning over love stories in books and movies, rambling wildly about boom boxes and love letters and john hughes films. 

it meant mary wanted you to get your fairy tale ending and for the moment she asked you to be hers forever to be perfect, and so far she unfortunately hadn't been able to seek that out.

"good morning my love." mary was quick to attach herself to you, cold hands creeping up your top craving your body heat as you squealed at the icy invasion. "god your hands are freezing, go put some gloves on or something!" you teased with a smile, turning in her hold and pressing a gentle kiss to the taller woman's lips, murmuring good morning as you pulled away.

"oh she's got goal keeping jokes about gloves how original!" the english keeper rolled her eyes sarcastically with a slow clap before grabbing at you again and fondly leaving sloppy kisses all over your face, you playfully pushing her off with a laugh as she stepped away to make herself a coffee.

"what's cookin good lookin?" the woman asked with a grin, sipping on the hot beverage with a sigh of pleasure already feeling herself begin to wake more as the caffeine started to pump through her veins.

"well I'm having french toast...don't know what you're having." you shrugged, the hints of a cheeky smile tugging at the corner of your mouth as mary hummed and inched closer, backing you into the counter as she placed her hands either side of you, trapping your body against hers.

"so we want to play the mine and yours game, do we?" the keeper tutted as you innocently shrugged. "well if you want to be like that then this is mine, should I take it off you?" mary tugged teasingly at the jersey covering your top half with a smug smile.

"have i ever been one to complain when you've taken my clothes off?" you quipped back smoothly, mary raising an eyebrow somewhat impressed at the quick response. "if you want to be like that then these are mine, shall i take them off?" you mocked, a single finger tracing teasingly along the inside of the waistband of the nike tracksuit pants she wore which did technically belong to you.

"have i ever been one to complain when i've got no pants on round you?" mary grinned leaning in closer, her breath hitching as you teasingly dipped your hand a little lower into her tracksuit bottoms. 

"yes well it was kind of stupid of you to even bother wearing them in the first place." you grinned as she dipped down to kiss you, though no sooner had she captured your lips in hers was the smell of coffee replaced with the smell of something burning.

"shit my toast!" you realized and shoved her off, darting back towards the stove and moving the pan away, staring sadly down at your now blackened breakfast. "would it help if i said i actually wasn't in the mood for french toast?" mary tried as her eyes met yours over the top of her coffee mug, the woman sipping on the last dregs of her coffee and sending you a guilty smile.

"this happens all the time mary you're the worst distraction! get out of my kitchen." you ordered sternly, a wooden spoon poking your girlfriend firmly in the chest in warning as she attempted to step forward and wrap you in a hug. "hey! that's gonna bruise." the keeper pouted rubbing at her sternum as you rolled your eyes, shooing her away and grabbing the ingredients out to make a new batch.

~

"mary you're gonna be late if you don't shift it like right now!" you shouted out in warning, sighing and tapping your foot impatiently, head thudding softly against the front door as you twirled the keys in your hand. 

"you know if i didn't know any better i'd think you were rushing me out of here so you get the place all to yourself." your girlfriend finally appeared, slinging her backpack over her shoulder.

"yeah i am, cause my other girlfriends coming over for dinner." you grinned, grabbing your girlfriends suitcase for her as she slung her kit bag over her free shoulder. "watch it, cheeky." the taller woman pulled you into a searing kiss before you ran her through her usual checklist, mary confirming she had everything as you both stepped outside.

"you wish!" mary snatched the keys from your hands after she'd loaded her bags into the back, the two of you headed off to st georges park so you could drop her off for camp for the euros. 

"wasn't the entire point of this for me to drop you off? why can't i drive i'll be driving home anyway!" you reached for the keys as the taller woman held them easily out of your reach, something which infuriated you to no end. your girlfriend was forever finding it funny to put things away just out of your reach and watch you struggle, giving you no choice but to play right into her ego and have to ask her to get them for you.

"i'm gonna miss you so much baby, but i'll make sure you're well taken care of." mary murmured with a soft smile and your frown melted away. until you realised she was talking to her car and  you punched her in the arm with an annoyed huff only causing her smile to widen, going as far as to cheekily tap you on the bum as you booked it around her to the passenger door.

"acting as if you aren't a self confessed passenger princess baby. now stop frowning or you'll get wrinkles." mary teased, leaning over the console to press a few kisses to your cheek as you rolled your eyes, biting your lip to stop the smile which was fighting hard to consume your face.

"can you text tooney and less for me please? tell them we'll be there in ten." mary asked, slinging an arm across the back of your chair and turning to watch over her shoulder as she reversed out of the driveway, a simple action you found wildly attractive.

moments later after much bickering back and forth and a few games of luggage tetris to fit everything in, you'd picked up the two younger girls and the four of you were headed off toward st georges park. "what are you gonna do without us now? you'll be bored out of your mind." ella grinned, leaning forward and draping her arms around you, poking at your cheeks as you smacked her hands away.

"i'm going to catch up on sleep and every single show and movie i missed out on seeing from spending all my free time babysitting the two of you!" you shot back with a smirk, the blonde and brunette gasping at the accusation as mary let out a loud belt of laughter. 

"babysitting?!" alessia scoffed, crossing her arms stubbornly over her chest. "yes i feel like a mother of two at twenty eight, i will miss my little babies, off to their first home euros!" you cried dramatically, wiping away some fake tears as ella leant forward again and sharply pinched you for the comment.

"ow tooney!" you stretched back and tried to slap her as alessia blocked the shot, the two of them teaming up against you, ella flicking repeatedly at your ear and squeezing your cheeks with mocking words as alessia held your hands in hers, rendering you unable to defend yourself.

"oi cut it out you three, act your ages!" mary yelled sternly over your combined chattering, alessia letting you go as you quickly slapped at her leg with a loud crack and darted back into your seat before she could grab you again, flipping ella off who returned the gesture with a grin.

"i'm the one who babysits!" mary grumbled to herself as you smiled, leaning in to kiss her cheek and murmur how much you loved her in her ear, ella and alessia gagging in the back at your words. 

some sing alongs and genuine goodbyes later you were scooped up into a joint bear hug by the younger girls who admittedly you did look at like your own, the two frequently coming to yourself and mary for advice about everything and anything.

promising you'd see them soon and shooing them off you turned toward your girlfriend who was leant against her car, arms crossed and sunglasses on, patiently awaiting your attention. "i love you." you smiled as you wrapped your arms around her, glancing around to make sure there weren't any cameras on the two of you and craning your neck so your lips met with hers.

the two of you were out to the public, mary having thrown herself at you for many victorious kisses after matches won and you were forever dragged against your will into her tiktoks, but neither of you were overly fussed about having the more intimate moments of your relationship broadcast on a huge public platform like the lionesses social media.

you'd both already said your proper goodbyes last night over a very lovely dinner together, with tears shed between tender kisses and sweet words of affirmation afterwards as you lay wrapped up together in the comfort of your bedroom. 

mary leaving for camp wasn't anything new, and you would be at every single match with her family cheering for her loudly and proudly, so it wasn't really a moment that needed a goodbye, more of a see you soon.

"you're the best in the business baby, don't you dare ever doubt it." your hands landed on the brunettes cheeks, thumbs gently tracing the curve of her lips as she nodded, sweetly kissing the pad of your finger. "how could i with you in my corner forever reminding me? i'd be lost without you." mary smiled, swallowing back the tears which threatened to fall.

the keeper was always overcome with emotions when she thought back to the countless nights you'd spent sat on the floor with her as she'd cried her heart out, yelling about how she was going to quit because she was spent, having thought she'd gave football her all and just not been good enough.

as much as you assured her it wasn't the case she knew she owed you a great debt, she could hardly be the most reasonable or kind person when in that sort of head space, having lashed out and taken her emotions out on you when under pressure more times than she could count. but having known her long before anything turned romantic you knew exactly the response she needed from you each time. you were the anchor of mary's life, forever a steady point to call home she knew would keep her grounded for the rest of her life.

which is exactly the reason she knew she wanted to marry you, heart yearning for nothing more than to be there for you even half as much as you were there for her, she loved you with every fiber of her being and planned to spend the rest of your shared life together making sure you felt it.

"go away before you make me cry, we promised we wouldn't!" you wiped away a stray tear after she'd whispered into your hair how much you meant to her, stealing one last kiss and snatching the keys from her grasp, playfully shoving her taller form away.

"i'll see you at old trafford." you smiled softly, blowing her a kiss and sliding into the drivers seat of her car, flipping her off as she yelled out to drive carefully. knowing her well enough to know she wouldn't move until you'd driven out of sight you wound down the window and revved the car, only doing it again to drown her out as she told you off, winking with a grin at her look of displeasure at your antics.

and true to her word with another i love you and an air kiss, she stood watching until you'd booked it out around the corner of the driveway, disappearing from sight.

~

"they did it, they really did it." marys mum julie pulled you into a tight hug, whispering in disbelief as the crowd roared, the whistle having sounded to announce englands win over germany.

they'd done it, they'd won the euros.

your girlfriend was a champion of europe and you thought your body might explode with pride, having been on the edge of your seat with every minute passed, the girls putting in the work and the love of your life the unbeatable brick wall you knew she would be.

marys eyes met yours and she beamed, waving her gloved hands at you as you mouthed how much you loved her, signing out MVP with your fingers causing her grin to widen, Leah shoving her and making a few teasing comments in her ear where she watched on beside her.

having been given their medals and lifting the trophy, a few power slides through confetti and crashed interviews later, mary found herself finally alone with her team, dancing around the solitude of the change rooms as her ears rang with the thundering boom of their chants of victory.

slipping her gloves into her bag so she was able to hold her drink a little easier, marys eyes dropped to see the small velvet box tucked into her slides. grabbing it and sitting down on the bench she ran her fingers over your initials she'd had placed atop the box, a million thoughts racing through her head, only snapped back into reality as a hand landed on her shoulder.

"you alright mate?" leah asked, slightly concerned for her friend who seemed to have mentally checked out of their celebrations. "i think its time." mary answered, opening her hand and showing the box clasped tightly in her grasp as leahs eyes widened. "yeah?" the captain squeezed her shoulders tighter as mary nodded, every single shred of doubt disappearing as your face beaming with pride flashed through her mind.

"yeah, its time."

with a nod mary was quick to stand, sprinting out of the change rooms and ignoring her team mates confused calls after her, dodging and weaving through staff and family members who littered the tunnel, sending appreciative smiles to the compliments thrown her way but not stopping.

only as her feet hit the pitch did eventually her eyes find you, sat down on the edge of the barrier beside her brother and laughing at something ella's dad had said, quite close with all of the families of her united team mates.

she heard someone behind her call for her attention but she had other priorities right now as she made a beeline for you, only stopping to hug her family, unable to deny them her attention as her mum wrapped her in a tight hug.

whispering in her ear what she was about to do julie's head snapped back and she looked at her daughter first in shock, then her features softened and her eyes welled up with tears of joy, nodding wordlessly and stepping away, grabbing at mary's father and brother to stop them interrupting.

"mary!" you laughed as your girlfriend was quick to take your hand, uttering a hasty apology to those who had you engaged in conversation and tugging you away, ignoring your protests as she dragged you down the tunnel, only letting go of your hand once she'd pulled you into the kit room.

"okay i love you and i am so so fucking proud of you, but i don't think victory sex in a closet is really-" you started as mary rolled her eyes, cutting you off with a quick kiss and placing a finger to your lips, silencing you.

you opened your mouth to continue once she'd stepped back but your throat dried up and the words died as the keeper got down on one knee, eyes widening you froze, feet rooted in place as mary took a deep breath.

"my love. i cannot even begin to express how much you mean to me, or even imagine how to put into words how much you've changed my life. not only do you make me a better person every single day, but you make me want to be a better person, for you, because you only deserve the best. i wouldn't be here today without you, without you picking me up off the kitchen floor and wiping my tears, assuring me over and over that i wasn't done and that i couldn't give up yet." mary paused and looked up to the roof, swallowing her tears and clearing her throat as your hands moved to your face, covering your mouth in shock.

"you give me purpose and drive and motivation to want to do better, because you believed in me that i could be better and have spent every moment since making sure i know i am better. there isn't a single moment in life when i'm with you that i wish i was anywhere else, every second spent by your side or in your thoughts is a blessing and i promise to never ever take you, your love and your unwavering support for granted. i am far from perfect but as both a friend and a partner you've never expected me to be. you're the grounding point in my life and i know that with you in my corner i'll never need to feel lost again." mary paused again to pull the small velvet box from her sock as you choked back a combined sob and a laugh at the hiding place, wondering how you'd not noticed it before.

"there's so much more i could say about how much i love and adore you and all of the little things that make you you, but if you do me the honour of saying yes then i vow to spend the rest of our lives making sure you feel it. so, will you marry me?" mary finished, stomach knotted tightly with nerves the keeper felt both like she could pass out or throw up at any given time, the adrenaline of her spontaneous decision now starting to wear off as reality set in.

"are you sure you want to ask me today? today should be about you and your achievements, because i know you're fucking brilliant but you deserve a day to yourself and for yourself that commemorates that." you bit down on your lip and mary's heart practically burst out of her chest that of all the concerns you could have right now it was simply that she felt assured and celebrated.

"i've never been more sure of anything. i'll already remember today for the rest of my life and i want nothing more than to share that with you, if you'll let me." mary promised with a firm nod, popping open the box as your eyes somehow widened more at the ring, it was perfect.

"yes." you agreed instantly, mary looking at you both in shock and admiration. "yes?" she asked to confirm and you nodded, practically tackling her onto the ground in a hug. "yes!" you laughed, tears now streaming down both of your faces as your lips met hers, the kiss nothing short of euphoric as with shaky hands mary slid the ring onto your finger.

"oh my god mary!" you scrambled to grip onto the back of her jersey as she practically threw you over her shoulder, barreling out of the kit room and charging into the change rooms, leah cutting off the music as soon as she spotted her.

"SHE SAID YES!" mary boomed with a cheer, her team mates swarming the two of you as you held up your hand, eyes still welling up with tears as congratulations poured down on you. "oh god thats lovely, what good taste in rings you've got mary!" rachel teased as millie grabbed your face, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

"is this why you were making me try your rings on!?" you smacked at alessias shoulder with a laugh as mary finally let you down, pulled to the floor and dog piled on by half her team as the younger blonde yanked you into a very tight hug.

"yeah tooney and i really didn't think that would work but you didn't question it." alessia grinned and you didn't have a moment to respond before a body barreled into you, ella taking you down to the ground in a tight hug as mary was quick to push her team mates off, checking if you were okay and breathing a small sigh of relief when you let out a laugh and shoved her off you.

after many more congratulations you left the team to continue to celebrate their win not wanting to take away from a moment they had well and truly earned. stepping around the back to the bathrooms where no one was, pausing for a moment and sinking down against the wall, eyes scrunched tightly closed.

taking a deep breath you looked down to the ring on your hand, covering your mouth again in shock as you let out a strangled sound which was half laugh half sob, your now fiance rounding the corner in a desperate search to find you.

"there you are, thought you got cold feet and ran off." she teased, dropping down beside you and grabbing your ring clad hand, pressing a gentle kiss to the warm skin as you swooned. "it's no boom box on a lawn mower in the rain like a john huges film, but i promise i'll spend the rest of my life loving you like you deserve." mary whispered in promise and you nodded firmly, too choked up to get your words out.

and true to her word, she did exactly that.

[writing-mlm]

I have a kinda niche DC request. If you don’t write for him it’s fine but Jean-Paul Valley/Azrael x M! reader would actually be so awesome I’ve never seen a male reader fic for him

Soft

Summary: a night in with Jean-Paul Pairing: Jean-Paul Valley x Male reader Wc: 600 tags: it's Jean-Paul so religious talks a/n: this was gonna be longer, like I was gonna read more than two comics for him and then understand the little guy more but yknow...

There were two things that kept Jean-Paul sane, his faith and you. A lesser man would’ve said they were one in the same. You, a man of little faith had brought him, the man who has Azrael, the Angel of Death, so much peace. So much solace. 

You’d found him, scruffed him like he was a stray cat, and brought him in from the rain after Bruce had returned to reclaim the Batman mantle. Him, a cold-blooded killer, wrangled in by the smell of freshly brewed tea and a trusty first-aid kit. 

You comb his hair with care, bringing the long blonde strands to the top of his head, kissing the nape of his neck as he quietly recites saints, fighting to keep Azrael at bay. His bangs hang over his large, circle glasses and you dare not touch them as you wrap the hair in your grasp into a high pony. 

He finishes his rambles with a huff, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose, and lays his head against your thigh. Never mind that the action pushes the glasses back down. While he lays there, you mess with the small hairs at the nape of his neck, twirling them absentmindedly. 

“I… need to go and pray,” He announces, rising from his knees, his hands lingering on you before he fully detaches himself. “He is exceptionally loud.”

“Okay,” You nod, pulling your legs up to the couch while he heads over to the bedroom. “I’ll leave your dinner on the counter.”

“Thank you,” The last thing you see from him is the blonde pony you’d done. 

You’re aware of how Azrael feels about you, it’s a sort of simmering hatred but an appreciation. Jean-Paul is able to let him out more often with you at his side, he’s able to fulfill his duties a lot more now. But you’re an unrepentant man; you deny he is an Angel entirely. You don’t join the prayers. A man whose faith resides in something different from his own, something so connected that it taints Jean-Paul’s own belief. 

One of these days you’re sure he’s going to kill you for that. 

Dinner is ready by eight but he doesn’t leave the bedroom until midnight, his nose dripped with blood and the bandages around his arms need changing. He places his food into the microwave while you grab a change of bandages and a bucket to wash away the blood. The blood bucket, as it’s been dubbed and labeled with a now faded black Sharpie. 

“Are we still going to church tomorrow?” His careful eyes watch as you unwrap the dirtied bandages, hissing slightly when you accidentally peel them off too fast. 

“Do you want to?” You murmur, brushing the soaping sponge against his arms. He nods, holding your forearm in a ghostly grip as you clean him. Washing away the sins of the Azrael’s before him. “Then we’ll go. Remember to iron your shirt and pants.” 

“I can do yours, too,” He offers and you smile, kissing the palm of his calloused hand. The microwave stops but he doesn’t move to grab his plate, rather he waits for you to finish putting on the new wrappings before he unfurls from the couch and drifts back into the kitchen. 

He eats while you watch reruns of Saved by the Bell, ignoring the fact that you could go for a little nibble of his food. It’s your fault it smells so good. Jean-Paul notices, because of course he does, and piles a good amount of food on his fork without you noticing. 

“Here,” He smiles, extending the fork towards you. You shake your head but he insists, now letting the food touch your lips. Laughing, you eat the food and thank him.

[fountainpenguin]

A bunch of out-of-context snippets I wrote this week for my MCYT 'fics! March 2nd to March 9th.

Tried to pick the scenes that seemed the least spoiler-y~

Linda lowers her head towards the pool. With a yip of excitement, Impulse leaps past her teeth. He plunges straight in the water. Etho flinches back, wrapping tight to his mom’s paw. Fox kits can’t swim. Their legs are too small; their necks are too short. Maybe phantoms can? Impulse is so big, he can reach the bottom. He looks left and right, like he’s not sure what to make of it… at least not while using a body. He takes a bite of water. Etho lifts his pleading eyes to Charlotte, who doesn’t move a muscle. Her eyes don’t leave the back of Linda’s head for a second. “I think there’s been a misunderstanding. I’m not calling your parenting ineffective- I just think maybe there are some improvements I could help with! I mean, you stay down here in this dusky cave all the time, you don’t see the sun all that much, you’re probably not feeding them too well-” Linda’s response is a long, low growl. Her wings stretch wider, blocking not just Impulse, but the whole pool in one stretch. Protective. “Mom?” Etho whispers, shrinking farther behind her fluffy leg. “Mommy’s talking, sweetie.”

- Newborn Impulse's nameday (From a multi-chapter called "Under Gravity" I realized it was smarter to split into one-shots)

“Mm,” says Scott, reaching up to cup his cheek. Bdubs lets him, even though it means letting that hand slip from his own. Scott’s touch is warm as freshly brewed tea. “Couldn’t have done any of this if you didn’t start a flock. You really are amazing, Bdubs. You’re always on the clock… I don’t thank you for your hard work enough.” “That’s right! I deserve rewards! … I would do anything to keep this city safe, Mr. Mayor. I’d run the canal a thousand times a day.” “I would never ask that of you,” Scott murmurs, brushing his knuckles down Bdubs’ cheek this time. He gives a grimace. “Elections are coming; debates are next week. And if I’m not mayor after that? What then?”

- Dog's Life - Chapter 46 ("Scatter by Sunset")

“I’ve been thinking about it,” Joel goes on, holding up his hands like parallel lines of rail. “You seem really happy as a Clocker? And I mean, you don’t date Cleo outside of roleplay. Right?” “Cleo and I only roleplay our marriage and divorce,” Etho dutifully reports, which cannot be proved a lie if Cleo isn’t here to vouch against it, and everything inside his system is screaming Oh man, oh snap, ohhhh no. Danger Will Robinson. Danger. Danger. I messed up. He can’t let Joel into his bedroom. He’ll see Scarlett. But he can still turn this around; he can still pull this off. “Yeah, so… If we do it like that, maybe I could be your second Cleo.” It’s a question, even when it’s declarative. Etho holds steady, staring upward, even when Joel’s fingers brush against his temple and the upper lip of his mask. “Honestly, it might be fun… but I’m not sure it’s the right block for it. It’s a little soon…” “What do you mean ‘soon?’ It’s been a hundred bloody years since Double Life, Eefo!” “Maybe for you… It’s about 7 for me.” “Well, whatever.” NOT ‘whatever.’ It matters.

- Dog's Life - "Rekindle"

“Do you think you can walk?” “Yeah…” Martyn takes his hand back from hers. He wipes it on his shirt, then immediately regrets doing that while she watched. He didn’t think her dirty, although gravel on her hand suggested she’d been creeping around the streets in search of easy prey. Maybe there are rules against eating someone in a panic attack. Oh, wait. I’m a phantom. I’m protected anyway. He braces his weight on his hands and fights to stand, only to realize - too late - that he certainly can’t. Out of sync. Wobbly legs betray him, dumping him on his face. “We can just sit,” Cleo says, watching him clumsily try to act like that didn’t just happen. Martyn can’t think of anything clever to say, so he just sputters something like “Yeah, let’s,” and sits back where he was. This time, he wraps his arms around his knees instead of holding her hand.

- "Chalaza"

“I just wanna get to know you better, right? You’re my roommate until further notice.” “My intentions are not to entertain you.” Joel ignores that. “Do you have any OCs?” “Elaborate.” “Original characters. Creations made by you, but they’re alive. Wait, that is very non-specific.” “To create things that are alive is to curse them with a mirror of my own existence.” “Okay, um. When you make some, do… do you wanna ship them with Shrek with me, or-”

- Dog's Life - "Furnace"

1,000 lies flit through Scar’s eyes in that moment. And Grian wants to look away, stop gripping Scar so tightly with his fingers, but they’re frozen- bonded in that way that both allays and parrots are when they’ve found their match. But only one of these species is immune to taking damage from the partner they’ve sworn their loyalty to… and the other one, if he isn’t careful, will die with a croaking squawk every time. “You, Cub, Bdubs, and Mumbo are my best friends-” “That’s not what I asked, Scar.”

- Dog's Life - "Watcher 3" (?)

Bdubs whips into view on the other side, ducking under Cleo’s arm. “Treat!?” Oh, snap. He walked into- And didn’t- He shoots a pleading glance to Cleo, begging with pathetic fox kit eyes for her to relinquish him from the grips of roleplay so he can flee back down the hall. Scar and Bdubs can’t do it; they’re locked in until she gives the cue to end the game. Even if they had that authority, they clearly wouldn’t use it. The roleplay may be pretend, but the mischief in their shiny eyes is 100% real. Is that different in American numbers? Or do they only switch things around for temperature? It’s 212% real. Bdubs grabs his arm, pulling Etho forward so he stumbles through Cleo’s doorway. “What’d you bring me, huh?” “Uhh… A winning smile, charismatic wit, and the pleasure of my company.” “Yes!” Bdubs throws both hands in the air. “A three for three! Dad, can I play video games?” “Cleo… You haven’t given them the talk about how they are a video game?” Bdubs’ smile wipes clean away. “What?”

- "Feeling Out Your Every Breath"

“I’m here to stay, Etho.” The words are instant in her mouth. Cleo runs her fingers across his forehead, pushing wild hair flops from his eyes. She pulls his head back just enough to make him squint against the lantern light. It’ll be easier to breathe if he looks upward, even if every part of his body is screaming at him to double over. He needs to keep loose… Keep his airways as relaxed and open as he can. “I’m your girlfriend. I want this to work. Deep breaths for me? I’m going to take your shirt off so I can see what I’m working with here.” Etho shakes his head, immediately curling in. Then he coughs, fighting for air, and it’s two minutes before she has him calm and breathing clear again. “Cleooo… I can’t. Soorry. Don’t look at me.” “Toughen up,” she says immediately, like she would for Martyn. But when Etho throws her a look of terror, she backtracks straightaway. “I mean… If I step out so you have privacy, can you yank the roots from your skin?” Etho’s eyes comb his sleeves. Then he looks at her again. “I have to, right? Or it gets worse?”

- "Top 10 Hanahaki Life Hacks (#8 Will Shock You)"

“Were I to unravel you… beneath all of this, you are a hand?” Etho’s long ears pin flat against his head, and he is ashamed. “It is as you say. I have built all that you have seen with my trickery and innovation.” “Then you have not shown me your true form.” The god begins to tremble. His eyes threaten golden tears, which mustn’t fall, for he will ruin his silks and die. “Do not ask this of me. To pierce this covering and expose ancient silk is to remove my status as a god. Without this cover, I would be nothing but a mangled hand cast aside after injury, for I belong to the god of sea and fire. I will either be punished and discarded, or he will claim me as a tool again. He will not fall for my tricks twice. You would bind me to him forever. Cleo, by the oath of our marriage, I swore I would do all I can to please you, but you cannot ask this of me. I would be no more.”

- "The Candles We Light (and Should Regret)"

At least I’m not undressed, she thought. Nightclothes were better than no clothes at all. She glides her hands from her neck upward, freeing ginger curls from where they’d tucked into the collar. She looks rumpled. The god of hearts and husbandry will have to deal with that. She crosses the room and jerks open the heavy door. Cleo catches one glimpse of the spirit standing with his hands folded behind his head before she averts her eyes to lush carpet. It’s the appropriate way to address a god who has not offered to let her stare. “I did not mean to disturb your rest, spirit, and especially not this late. Do your duties extend past sunset?” “Eh, little of Column A, little of Column B. The temple closes to outside prayers when the doors are drawn; those are collected by my acolytes come morning.” He points sideways with his thumb. “I can hear yours from all the way down the hall.” She tightens her lips, staring at the floor. “It was not expected you would answer. I did not consider it a prayer.” Martyn shrugs. “You’re inside my temple walls, and you asked for me. I have flown to your side to dote and fawn at your every command. Here I am.” She doubts his sincerity. “Surely,” she says, “there must be others who wish your presence more.” “Nope.”

- Untitled sequel to "Candles" in the Cupid/Psyche AU

This is what one week in my head looks like... If I ever write one thing in a straight line instead of jumping between multiple docs, I am an imposter...

[cozy-kit-cafe]

plush book self-care

[pankowcrumbs]

The Call X Kit Connor Chapter 4

MasterList

Chapter 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6.

Months had passed since that summer evening in Covent Garden. Your connection with Kit had been a pleasant, steady hum in the background of your increasingly hectic life. Texts exchanged every few days, the occasional phone call, and even a surprise bouquet sent to your flat when you mentioned feeling under the weather.

But as much as Kit had become a comforting presence, your focus had been consumed by the audition for the period drama. It was everything you’d been working toward—a leading role in a high-profile series that could elevate your career. And now, after weeks of preparation and callbacks, the final audition day had arrived.

You stood outside the grand casting office in Soho, clutching your script. The late autumn air was crisp, and you wrapped your coat tighter around you as you tried to steady your breathing. The street buzzed with life, but all you could hear was the pounding of your heart.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket, and you fished it out. A text from Kit lit up the screen.

Kit: Big day! You’ve got this, Y/N. Just do what you do best. Let me know how it goes.

A small smile crept onto your lips. His timing was impeccable, as always.

You: Thanks, Kit. I’ll keep you posted.

The warmth of his words lingered as you walked into the casting office. The reception area was a flurry of activity—other actors chatting nervously, the sharp click of the receptionist’s keyboard, the faint smell of freshly brewed coffee.

When your name was called, you took a deep breath and stepped into the audition room. The space was bright, with a panel of producers, the director, and a camera operator seated at a long table. You recognized a few of them from industry events, but their neutral expressions did little to calm your nerves.

“Y/N,” the director said warmly. “Good to see you again. Ready when you are.”

You nodded, slipping into character as you began the scene. It was one you’d rehearsed countless times—a confrontation between your character, a headstrong governess, and the brooding duke she worked for. You let yourself sink into the emotions, the weight of the dialogue, the tension in the lines. For those few minutes, the nerves melted away, replaced by the thrill of performing.

When you finished, the room was quiet for a moment before the director leaned forward, smiling. “That was fantastic. Thank you, Y/N.”

You left the room with your heart racing. The audition had gone as well as you could have hoped, but now came the agonizing wait for an answer.

Back on the street, you pulled out your phone and typed a quick message to Kit.

You: Just finished! It went well, I think. Now we wait…

His reply came almost instantly.

Kit: I knew you’d smash it. Fancy a celebratory drink tonight? You deserve it.

You hesitated, glancing at the packed schedule in your planner. But the thought of unwinding with Kit was too tempting to resist.

You: Only if it’s somewhere cozy.

Kit: Leave it to me. Pick you up at 7?

You: Perfect.

That evening, as you got ready, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of gratitude. The audition had gone well, yes, but having someone like Kit in your corner made the journey even more special.

By the time he arrived at your door, grinning and holding two takeaway cups of mulled wine, you felt a flicker of hope—not just for your career, but for the connection that seemed to grow stronger with each passing day.

[what-aboutno]

There's love in violence

4/?, 6.8k

He was still in terrible condition, even with a bit of healing. He'll probably have to wrap up his injuries soon. Childe began searching for any weapons, removing the obvious ones from his belt and jacket. He carefully took off layers as he went finding more deadly objects. Wriothesley entered with two cups of freshly brewed tea and a small medical kit, placing them on the bedside table. "For a man his size, he sure can carry a lot of weapons", Ajax laughed. "He's Mondstadt's best hunter for a reason" Wriothesley said, taking a sip from his cup. 

[friskynotebook]

You Make It Feel Like Christmas Ch. 5

An Obidala Hallmark Christmas movie rewrite!

CW: age gap, food, grief, injury, concussion

Summary: Padme and the Kenobis take in the Christmas market and share Christmas memories

Also on AO3!

Padme scrunched her nose as she woke, feeling a rough dog tongue licking her face.

“Oh, good morning, Lola,” she giggled, reaching out to pet the puppy. “Good morning, sweetheart. How are you?”

Padme rolled out of bed and dressed, carrying Lola downstairs. Looks like I’m the first one up. Wrapping herself in a blanket scarf she had found in the back of her borrowed closet, she lit a match and started the fireplace.

“Perfect,” she sighed, a smile on her face.

Satisfied with the cozy early morning atmosphere, Padme headed into the kitchen to prepare the coffee as she’d watched Obi-Wan do for the past few days, humming to herself as it brewed.

“Is that coffee I smell?”

Obi-Wan’s voice startled Padme out of her humming. “It is. It’s ready, actually.”

“Lovely,” he replied, watching her pour him a cup. “Thank you, Ami.”

“You’re welcome,” she blushed, pouring her own cup.

“And I see you got a fire started as well.”

“I did,” she nodded. “Cozy, isn’t it?”

“Very,” he agreed. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, Leia ran downstairs dressed in a plain green onesie.

“I look like a giant green bean!” Leia wailed. “I’m supposed to be an elf!”

“Oh, Leia,” Padme cooed. “At least you’re a really cute green bean.”

Leia pouted and looked down at her socked feet.

“I think I can help,” Padme said. “I would just need a sewing kit.” She turned towards Obi-Wan, a question in her eyes.

“I think I can find one of those,” he nodded.

##

“Watch your step right there,” Obi-Wan warned Padme, taking her hand and leading her into the dusty old barn.

“Thanks . . . Oh, wow. This is such a beautiful space,” Padme gasped, looking around.

“Oh, thank you,” he demurred. “It’s lovely, isn’t it?”

“It is . . .”

Obi-Wan swallowed. “Satine used to keep her horse out here . . . I’ve been wanting to turn it into an animal hospital for a while now. I’d love it if my clients didn’t have to drive sixty miles to Boulder if their animal needs surgery, you know?”

“That would be great.” Padme walked in comfortable silence with him for a few beats before clearing her throat. “I’ve actually been meaning to ask you about her, about Satine.”

“Oh. Um . . .” Obi-Wan looked down and swallowed. “Well, uh, she passed away a little over three years ago now.” He rubbed his nose, scratched his beard. “Sh-she wasn’t sick for all that long, which is good . . . If anything good could come from that, you know.” He turned away and kept walking.

“I’m so sorry,” Padme murmured. 

“Thank you.”

“But that’s not really what I meant.”

Obi-Wan turned to her, his brow furrowed. “Oh?”

“I actually wanted to hear about what she was like. A memory or something?”

“Alright,” he said, smiling softly. “She would make freshly baked cinnamon bread every weekend for the family. She loved baking . . . We would make sure to spend time together every evening at the end of the day to talk about how things went and to reconnect as a couple. That was very important to us, to do that . . . And she loved Christmas. That was her holiday. She made homemade stockings for the children, handmade ornaments . . .” He swallowed. “She always made sure the children got one present they really wanted and one present she believed would make them better people. And just about every year, the children preferred that present anyway . . . I know this might sound strange, but she had the most wonderful scent. When I woke up in the morning, even before I opened my eyes, I just knew she was there. I knew she was all around me.”

“She sounds like an amazing person,” Padme said, her voice hoarse from disuse. “You must miss her a lot.”

Obi-Wan nodded, unable to speak. He stepped over to a few boxes, starting to dig through them.

“You know,” Padme began. “If you did turn this space into an animal hospital, it would be like you were doing something for Satine, in her memory. Helping animals with this incredible space she loved so much.”

“I’ve honestly never thought of it like that,” he replied. “When you put it like that, it sounds lovely.”

Padme smiled and looked down, letting his praise wash over her.

Obi-Wan pulled a metal tin from a dusty box, smiling at her. “Sewing kit.”

##

“Excited?” Korkie asked his little sister.

“Yep!” Leia beamed, swinging her big brother’s and father’s arms as she walked with them into the Christmas market, showing off her special sparkly elf costume under her jacket.

The family gathered together with the other families as the children gathered on stage for the outdoor Christmas play.

“She’s an elf among green beans,” Obi-Wan murmured to Padme, leaning in close. Padme blushed and opened her mouth to respond when the children interrupted her.

“In Santa’s workshop far away, Santa’s elves work night and day!” Leia grinned in front of her classmates, clearly excited to be wearing such a pretty costume.

“These little elves make video games!” Santa Quinlan announced.

Leia stepped up front. “And these little elves give dolls their names!”

Padme gave Leia a dazzling smile as Obi-Wan surreptitiously went to rub his eye.

“And Santa packs the gifts in his sleigh and takes it to kids on Christmas Day!” Quinlan finished. “Merry Christmas!”

As the crowd started to disperse, Obi-Wan pulled Padme aside. “Her costume really is amazing. I cannot thank you enough, Ami.”

Padme blushed again. Probably just the cold . . . “Oh, I think I might have overdone it a little bit.”

Leia ran over and lept into her father’s arms. “There she is!” Obi-Wan cried as he lifted her up.

“I had the best costume ever!” Leia declared.

“I don’t think Leia minds,” Obi-Wan teased, grinning at Padme. He turned back to his daughter. “You did! Congratulations!”

“Thank you Daddy!” Leia clung to his neck. ##

Later that evening, the family was walking through the market, twinkling Christmas lights dancing through the crisp winter air as their boots trudged through the snow.

“Who wants hot chocolate?” Obi-Wan asked the children.

“Me!” They all cheered.

“Me too!” Obi-Wan grinned. “Want one?” he asked Padme.

“Oh no,” she replied. “I ate, like, half a turkey.”

Obi-Wan chuckled. “We’ll be back. Korkie, help me bring them over?”

“Okay!” Korie said, taking his father’s hand as they walked off.

“Ami!” Mace and Depa came over to Padme, Luke, and Leia.

“Oh hi!” Padme greeted them. “Enjoying the market?”

“It’s wonderful—one of my favorite parts of the season,” Depa replied.

“Listen, Ami, I wanted to talk to you about your car,” Mace said. “We’ve been combing the woods looking for it, and I think we’re finally closing in on it.”

“How have you been feeling?” Depa asked.

“Oh, I . . .” Padme trailed off as she glanced over to where Obi-Wan and Luke went in search of hot chocolate—only to find Obi-Wan going for a polite kiss on the cheek and Siri pulling him in for a more passionate kiss.

Before she even realized what she was feeling, her heart sank. Why do I feel so . . . despondent? He can kiss whoever he wants. He doesn’t owe me anything.

Padme tried to not let her disappointment show on her face. “I’m feeling much better these days,” she replied. “Must be the mountain air.”

Obi-Wan and Korkie returned with the hot chocolates, just in time for the tree lighting.

“Three, two, one!” The crowd chanted, cheering when the Christmas tree in town square was lit up in all its glory.

##

“They are out,” Obi-Wan said as he came into the living room from putting the children to bed. “Must have been all the sugar.”

He sank down on the couch next to Padme. “Are you alright?” he asked. “You’ve been awfully quiet since we left the market.”

Padme sighed. “Look, Obi-Wan, I have to tell you something. I’m having the time of my life with you and your kids—at least as far as I know—I think I should find another place to stay because . . . I don’t want to be selfish and come between you and Siri.”

Obi-Wan furrowed his brow. “What?”

“I saw you and her in the square kissing when you went to get hot chocolate.”

“Oh!” Obi-Wan chuckled. “No, Ami, it’s not like that at all—”

“I get it,” Padme continued. “I mean, I just fell out of the sky like some crazy snowflake with no memory. There’s a whole world here that I’m not a part of, and I get that—”

“It wasn’t a real kiss,” Obi-Wan interrupted.

Padme looked taken aback. “It looked like a real kiss . . .”

“Well it was a kiss, but it was because of the mistletoe,” Obi-Wan explained. “She held a mistletoe over my head and I wanted to give her a kiss on the cheek to be polite, but she, well, went further than I was comfortable with.” He cleared his throat.

Padme frowned. “Are you alright?”

Obi-Wan looked up from his lap. “Hmm?”

“Are you alright?” she repeated. “She forced you into something you didn’t want, only to make it worse by crossing your boundaries even further—and she did it in public in front of Korkie because she knew you wouldn’t want to make a scene in front of him. It couldn’t have been easy for you, Obi-Wan. Are you okay?”

Obi-Wan swallowed, his features softening. If Padme didn’t know better, she’d think he looked touched. “Better now that I’m home in front of the fire,” he smiled.

After a beat, he continued. “We did go on a date, once. But it was so . . . wrong.  It didn’t feel right. She force-fed me some of the most slimy tofu I’d ever had.”

Padme gave him a small smile. “For what it’s worth, I’d never make you eat slimy tofu. Anyone who makes slimy tofu should not be allowed anywhere near a kitchen.”

He laughed. “Ami, Christmas has not been the same around here for a few years now, and having you here with us . . . You’ve made it feel special.”

“Really?” Padme asked, her voice soft.

“Really. And you are a part of this family—I mean, part of this world, here in Salida,” he quickly corrected himself. “I know you’re part of another world and we’ll figure out where that is but until we do . . . What I’m trying to say is we’d love to have you stay here with us.”

She beamed at him, resting her head on his shoulder. 

“Daddy! Daddy! Can you bring me water? I’m thirsty!” Leia called.

Padme raised her head. “Duty calls?”

Obi-Wan stood, a wry grin on his face. “Duty calls.”

No-pressure tags: @saradika @obiknights @justsaysomethingjayj @cypanache @alabama-metal-man @vic3456 @darlingamidala @celestial-alignment @your-dose-of-obidala @written-musings @fearless-too-and-stubborn

[thetavolution]

five character associations — Ingrid, Bex, and Tessa

Tagged by @razrogue (thank you!)

INGRID

emotions

anxiety

patience

determined

motivated

self-conscious

colors

dark blue

burnt orange

eggplant

sapphire

orchid purple

scents

lavender

sage

strawberries

freshly baked honey cake

chai spices

objects

her tattooing kit

herbs, like sage and lavender

a carving of a spider given as a gift from a loved one

carefully and respectfully collected bones

her quarterstaff

body language

a shy yet kind smile

keeping her eyes averted, nervously

getting lost in a big hug

a squeeze of a hand

staying by someone's side to comfort them

aesthetics

a spider in its web

tattoos delicately drawn on flesh

bones and decaying corpses

a breezy autumn day

curled up with an animal or two, like a cat or an owlbear

BEX

emotions

irreverent

empathy

affectionate

ennui

shame

colors

pink

ruby red

lilac

rosewood

mint green

scents

homemade bread

freshly brewed coffee

blood oranges

poppies

a cozy bonfire

objects

her antique violin

an old worn recipe book

a well-loved wooden spoon for cooking

her Knife of the Undermountain King

a lovingly baked macaron

body language

discreetly reaching out to link pinkies together

a look of complete detachment, in the throes of dissociating

a gentle squeeze of the arm for support

sitting in a special someone's lap with her arms around them

a genuine smile seeping through her smirk

aesthetics

a warm kitchen filled with fresh baked goods

a violin perched on a shoulder

piles of books, including recipe books

an endless field of poppies

coffee brewing over an open fire

TESSA

emotions

affectionate

impatient

capable

invigorated

lonely

colors

green

blue-green

snow white

aquamarine

dark brown

scents

pine forest

a warm cup of black tea

cranberry cake

crisp, clean snow

the smell of a rainy morning

objects

a pressed rose given to her by her mother

a deck of cards (possibly tampered with)

a notebook to write stories of her own

the shadow of Menzoberranzan to obscure her face

her sword of screams

body language

standing with her arms over her chest, cautious but standoffish

a quick and playful peck on the cheek

hiding in the shadows to disappear from sight

playing with a dagger with one hand

a quick and silent nod of acknowledgement

aesthetics

a cold, snowy day

roses and rose tattoos

a gambling table

an imposing yet loving winter wolf

sitting in front of the fireplace with a book

No obligation tagging: @tavsboots @himbo-hunter-hadrian @whenwindwhispers and anyone else who wants to do it!

[tavyliasin]

BG3 FicFeb SFW - Day 16

Today's prompt is to base the work on a song. The ending notes will contain the full lyrics, but this is the song link I chose. It felt like it fit well with Wyll's character arc, how he's struggling with his identity shifting and changing as a result of everything that happens outside of his control.

I'm not as happy with this chapter but I think it ended well enough, and it was fun to explore through the vibes of the song~

Short fic below the cut~

Day 16 - Write something inspired by your favourite song/poem/book (I can't pick a single favourite song so I chose one that worked)

Wyll stormed out of his tent, shirtless and distressed, his clothing hanging loose in his hand. “That’s the fourth time this week! I can’t keep…how the hells do I-” 

“Wyll. Come here.” Tav’s voice was firm but calm, the others already starting their day around her as Wyll had been struggling with his outfit in his tent. “Sit down. Astarion?” 

“Again?” The pale elf was already going through his pack for the sewing kit as Wyll slumped down on the log next to Tav. 

“Don’t worry about it. We’ve got more thread, more patches.” She took the shirt and passed it over to Astarion, who quickly got to work on the rip. 

“I’m pathetic.” Wyll gazed into the fire.

“Wyll, it’s a shirt. You’re still getting used to the horns, and honestly even if it wasn’t that then something would’ve put a hole in it eventually.” She wiggled her finger through a rip in her leathers, the slight red stain betraying the cause as an errant arrow a few days prior. 

“If it was just a shirt, it wouldn’t matter.” He still didn’t turn his eyes from the fire. “But that bloody thing might as well be a metaphor for my whole life.”

Tav looked to Halsin, who was helping Gale with the morning food supplies, and motioned brewing some tea. The druid nodded, already selecting the pot and herbs. She motioned for Wyll to continue.

“Every time I tried to dream of something, to reach out and grab it, it ends up torn apart. I tried to save the city, my family, to be the man that my father always wanted me to be…and I was cast out. I tried to rebuild myself, to at least still be a hero, to do what was right and to save people…and I nearly killed an innocent woman. Gods only know how many others Mizora might have made me hurt.” He glanced over at Karlach for a moment, as she helped pack up everyone’s tents for travelling again, completely unaware of the single fiery eye that was already stinging with fresh tears for her sake. “For all my troubles, for all that trying to still do the right thing, I can’t even be a hero because anyone I try to help only sees a demon from their worst nightmares.” 

“You didn’t know, you couldn’t have known any of this would happen.” Tav handed him the freshly brewed mug of tea. 

“But that’s the thing. Even if I knew, if I went back knowing everything I do now,  I’d do it all again. I don’t know if it’s foolishness, unjustified courage, or desperation to try and live up to even the smallest part of that legacy of my father. Yet here I am, blade in hand, devil’s chain around my neck. I’m still fooling myself into thinking I can change it, that it’s worth it… Just like every damned day I put that shirt on telling myself it won’t catch on my horns this time because I know better.” He sighed heavily, taking a sip of his drink and sitting back a little. “And yet here we are. Again. Another hole to mend, but at least that’s just a shirt, and not trading my soul for a dream that should’ve died the moment I lost my eye.” 

Astarion handed back the shirt in question, the hole mended, but not with a basic stitch. It looked more like embroidery, a small sword with a golden hilt. “Gods I can’t listen to this any more. Look at this. The shirt, it will never be the same because of the holes in it, imperfect, whatever you want to call it.” 

“You’re not helping, Astarion.” Wyll grumbled, running his thumb over the other repairs made that week. 

“Oh for the gods…let me finish, will you?” The pale elf shot back, tapping on the embroidered part insistently. “Someone here seems to keep telling me something, so I am going to do you a favour and impart the same lesson. Life changed you, yes. Well it does that, and rarely with any thought for your dreams or goals. So change them. Stop seeing all the parts that are broken and look at the parts you still have. You see over there? That tiefling who you didn’t horribly murder? Good. She’s rather fond of you, and if you get your horns out of your arse for 5 seconds you might just notice.” 

“That’s…certainly something to think about, but what’s the point if-” 

“Darling please stop the warlock from talking for a minute will you?” Astarion shot a pointed look at Tav, who in turn nudged Wyll and hid behind her own tea. “You cannot go back to being just the human Wyll Ravengard any more than I can undo being a bloody vampire. So, why not look at what you do have? You are alive. You have one good eye. And gods forbid I point out that you even have friends around you who do not give a single fuck what you look like, because they know who you are.”

“I…Thank you, Astarion, that’s surprisingly-” 

“AND WE ALSO ALL HAVE BLOODY TADPOLES IN OUR BRAINS THAT COULD TURN US INTO MINDFLAYERS AT ANY GIVEN MOMENT. So if you are quite done with your pity party, I would like to get back on our way to getting rid of the bloody things.”

Tav watched the vampire stalking back off to his tend and simply shrugged with a smile. “He’s not wrong. Not necessarily the kindest way to say it, but… Stop worrying about the dreams you can’t reach any more, Wyll. Look at what’s right in front of you. If you can even get a passionate speech out of Astarion of all people, I’d say you’re doing at least something right.” She ran a finger over the embroidered sword on his now mended shirt. “The world has changed every one of us from what we thought we might be. It’s scary, and sometimes it hurts more than any arrow or axe, but we survive. And after we survive, we decide what living means again.” 

She stood up to follow after Astarion, leaving Wyll with his thoughts, his shirt, and half a cup of cold tea that had been forgotten. He glanced over at Karlach again, her bright smile matching the glow of her heart. “A blade,” he muttered, mostly to himself, “is only worth what it can protect.” ------ ------ FULL SONG LYRICS

Sainthood and Sanctuary by Aviators

Safe from an early grave But death feels closer still When does the human soul cave To find itself a kill Promised a crown of glory Fought for an equal stand But fortune would never find me In this blood red land

Why have I given my heart I've fallen so far Because now the future scares me Why am I broken and small i'd sacrifice all For sainthood and sanctuary

After I sought protection The saviors broke my bones Lost streets that I remember Now lie here alone Mantras of greater purpose End up left behind The faithful don't deserve this Desperate and blind

Why have I given my heart I've fallen so far Because now the future scares me Why am I broken and small i'd sacrifice all For sainthood and sanctuary

I would give anything to know I'm not alone I'm tired of suffering When I once had a home

Fallen graces familiar faces Never look like mine rings of fire And holy water never turn back time Why do I have many questions Intel I can't find still unsure of My mind's selection to trust my fallen kind

Why have I given my heart I've fallen so far Because now the future scares me Why am I broken and small I'd sacrifice all For sainthood and sanctuary

Why have I given my heart I've fallen so far Because now the future scares me Why am I broken and small i'd sacrifice all For sainthood and sanctuary

I would give anything to know I'm not alone I'm tired of suffering When I once had a home

[iamasimplesimp]

BUNNY HERO MOON!!!

Okay, this Robohero AU is freshly brewed like a nice cup of coffee :]

Basic facts include:

The virus existed, HOWEVER Moon got cured of it.

By the time that Moon got cured, no living human recalled him being the naptime attendant except for the people who have files on Moon at Fazcorp.

A new law was set in place! Robots with advanced AI are legal citizens now, and are legally considered alive.

Fazcorp has to give each of its advanced AIs a hefty sum, which officially bankrupts the company.

Free to go wherever they please, Sun and Moon (still sharing the same body) leave the pizzaplex. Sun knows that he wants to get involved with volunteer work, cause heaven knows that adult humans are supremely incapable of getting anything done!

(more facts below the cut)

Moon, however, is lost. With his mind previously infected by the virus, he lost a huge chunk of time to live, and is still trying to process things. He doesn't know what he wants to do.

While meandering the streets at night, he stumbles across a robber holding a knife to an innocent person, and Moon casually intervenes. The robber is downed in no time, and the person thanks Moon repeatedly. To the point that Moon gets a rush.

Fueled by this rush, Moon decides to become a vigilante. He's doing a good job helping people!

Sun figures that, if Moon is really going to do this, they need to change Moon's appearance, so, through some not-so-legal means, Moon updates his looks to that of a rabbit wearing a large raincoat. The frog backpack holds a first aid kit!

They move out of the city the pizzaplex was in, moving to a completely different state even where robots tend to be treated better.

Setup complete, Sun works various odd jobs and volunteer work, while Moon patrols at night.

Vigilantism is still considered illegal, and there's worried murmurs that Moon's work will make other advanced AIs look bad.

etc etc. :3c

I want this story to be told from Moon's perspective... so I don't know about a reader insert :thinking: It may wind up just being an OC... or nobody at all. But since I'm still thinking up what to mix into the freshly brewed coffee, it's up in the air what the details are... for now. :>

[almostangrything]

Hama x Sama fanfic: One-Stop Heart Pop Game Shop- Chapter One.

This will have multiple chapters, mostly fluff, probably some angst but ultimately a happy ending, most likely. Hama is the DM character, Sama is the player character. Here we go!

Alright, let’s get started.

Hama unlocks the door leading from his staircase to his game supply shop and steps into the lower floor. Closing the door behind him, he relishes the smell of his personal slice of paradise. The freshly brewed coffee in his hand mingling with the paper and plastic of all his game kits and equipment makes for a rather pleasant aroma.

Setting his coffee on the counter, where he has his cash register, he begins to tidy up and restock. It was always these moments in the morning he loved the most. A few minutes before opening where he could just take in his realized dream. Ever since he was a tween, he had loved playing Dungeons and Dragons with his friends. So much so that he began to make his own tabletop role-playing games. It led to him starting his shop. Business management courses sure came in handy during college, when he was promoted to manager at his local bookstore.

But since then, he had started his own shop. For fantasy and games, though he was trying to branch out a bit more, so he did have some other books and props and other things of that nature. It still fit the vibe of his place, which he had dubbed the One-Stop Game Shop. It was his life’s dream, as silly as it sounded.

Finally, he felt satisfied with his preparation and turned the lights on, unlocking the door before stepping behind the counter to sip his coffee. He felt quite cozy in his warm, reddish-brown sweater (with the neck rolled down, of course; Hama hated things like that touching his neck) and light tan pants.

It was roughly 8:17 when his first customers came in, some excited groups of kids, mostly tweens and teens, with a few younger/older siblings and parents. The middle and high schools in the area were hosting some gaming nights, and a few colleges were doing so as well. It was great for business.

Hama was happy to help them. He rarely got rude customers, and when he did get troublesome individuals come in, they were usually quick to respond to his soft voice and kind demeanor. After the first wave of customers flushed out, it was relatively quiet until 12:12, when Hama was sitting behind his counter, having a sandwich he made earlier.

Because at approximately 12:10, a very heavy rainstorm had started, and at 12:12 (Hama likes to check his watch, as he enjoys being precise about things), a very bedraggled and rain-soaked young man all but scrambled into his shop, his hoodie sopping with the rain that it had absorbed. He looks up, giving the shop a once-over before his gaze lands on Hama.

Hama gives his usual gentle but charming smile. “Some storm we’re having, huh?” he asks, wondering how a person could be so absolutely saturated.

“You’re tellin’ me,” the young man responds, his voice a little hoarse from running in the harsh weather. At least his mouth wasn’t dry, though as he looked at Hama more, that started to change. “Sorry for getting water all over the floor.”

Hama just chuckles. “You look like you could use a few minutes inside. And don’t worry, it’s tile by the door for a reason.” Standing up from his stool, Hama steps around the counter to approach the new face. “Name’s Hama. You?”

“S-Sama… My name’s Sama,” the newcomer, now known as Sama, replies. He can feel himself getting nervous as Hama draws nearer, but he doesn’t quite know why. I mean, it was just an extremely kind shopkeeper with cute glasses and fluffy hair and gorgeous deep brown eyes and- I should probably stop before I give myself a nosebleed, Sama thought. Straightening up, he can see that Hama appeared to be around the same height, though with the slight slouch, it was hard to tell.

Hama smiles a bit wider. “Nice to meet you, Sama. Kinda cool that our names rhyme, huh?” he tries to lighten the mood. “Let me go get you a towel. I have some clothes I keep for this purpose specifically as well, I’ll get those too.” Hama walks swiftly away to get the items as Sama stands there, looking adorably like a wet bat.

Just a moment later, Hama returns, holding a fluffy white towel, a blue shirt, and a pair of grey pants. “There’s a public bathroom in the back corner,” he says kindly, handing Sama the clothes. “May I take your jacket?” Sama’s black hoodie had taken most of the rain, though was still totally soaked.

“S-Sure, thank you,” Sama responds as he peels off the hoodie. He awkwardly hands the wet garment to Hama, who holds it with one hand and drapes the towel around Sama with the other before stepping back.

“There we go.” Hama’s smile never falters as he places the hoodie in a bucket and waits for Sama to change. Once Sama steps out in the borrowed clothes, holding the wet ones, Hama holds up the bucket. “Here, I’ll put them in my dryer. I’ve been meaning to switch my laundry anyway.” He thinks for a second. “Actually, if you prefer your clothes separate, I can do that.”

“N-No, it’s fine,” Sama replies, hopefully not too quickly. “I really don’t mind, I do laundry with my roommates all the time. Speaking of which, I’m gonna be late for my next lecture!” He taps his foot anxiously, standing very tensely in the new clothes. On the one hand, he didn’t want to miss his lecture. On the other, he didn’t want to ruin the clothes Hama let him borrow. After all, it’d be a waste to run back out in the storm without an umbrella, or to change right back into his wet clothes and show up soaked to the lecture. Oh, if only he hadn’t gone to his favorite bakery for lunch. Though if he didn’t, he wouldn’t have met Hama, this amazingly kind and surprisingly attractive man. The smaller part of his brain said to just skip the rush and hang out with Hama for a bit. The same Hama who had just returned from doing the laundry.

“Hey, it’ll be okay. With a storm this bad, I’d be surprised if your professor actually got mad at you. When I was in college, they were super forgiving for stuff like this. Accidents happen.” Hama’s words seemed to pierce through Sama’s curtain of anxiety and give him a small amount of relief. “Yeah, you’re probably right,” Sama agrees. “I just get so nervous doing stuff like this, leaving campus for lunch. But those chocolate chip croissants are just too good.” He chuckles, trying to mask his churning insides.

“Yeah, I love them! They’re so good,” Hama says brightly. He pauses, doing mental calculations. “Wait, did you run three whole blocks from there to here?” he asks, seeming a little worried. Hama was surprised Sama wasn’t sick from all that.

“Heh heh, yeah… I was trying to get back to campus,” Sama explains, rubbing the back of his neck, which still had his semi-damp hair clinging to it. “Then I realized that I wouldn’t make it and ducked into the nearest store I saw.” Sama’s explanation sounded a little weak when he said it, though it was true, likely due to his nervosity. But Hama seems to understand the wired air about Sama.

"Hey, don't worry. It happens," Hama says, smiling. "You can hang out here for as long as you like. Of course, not past closing, though, sorry." He chuckles a bit and rubs the back of his neck, which Samam found quite cute.

"Oh, really? Thanks, man." Sama looks around. "While I'm here, I might as well look around, right? What kind of stuff do you sell here?" He walks between rows of shelves as Hama follows him, explaining. "Well, mostly D&D stuff. But I do sell equipment and other TTRPG's, as well as some books and other fantasy/fiction type stuff. Gotta branch out, y'know." The words half register to Sama as he walks around, unkempt but thankfully clean fingers brushing boxes of minifigures and dice sets. "D&D? What's that?" Sama inquires, glancing up at Hama.

Hama's eyes widen a little, but he laughs. "Wow, I can't believe you've never heard of Dungeons and Dragons. It's a TTRPG- or Table-Top Role-Playing Game- that's basically a turn based story-telling adventure. You have the DM, or the Dungeon Master, to set up the story and guide the players, who interact with the story," Hama explains. He stops, blushing a little bit in embarrassment as he realizes he's rambling. "B-But that's just the general idea, I guess..." He trails off, looking over at Sama through his glasses, gauging the youger man's expression and reaction. He expects indifference, maybe disgust or a shrug and a "sounds cool".

However, Sama looks absolutely captivated. "Does it have rules?" He presses further. "Like, can the players and the Dungeon Master do basically anything as long as the rules technically allow it?" He seems totally on board, taking Hama by surpise.

"Y-Yeah, you can find them in the Player's Handbook and the Dungeon Master's Guide. They're just over there," Hama responds, pointing to another section. He's even more surprised when Sama immediately walks in the direction he's pointing.

"Wow, this stuff is seriously cool!" Sama exclaims as he flips through a book. "And you play this with friends?" He looks up at Hama, his amber eyes alight with curiosity and wonder. His intrigue is infectious, as Hama walks over.

"Yeah," Hama replies. "I play it with my friends a lot. You should join us some time." He notices the hesitant look on Sama's face and quickly adds, "B-But since you're new and you've never heard of it, we could probably do a solo campaign together some day if you're free. I can DM and show you the ropes." He pauses, blushing a tiny bit as he realizes how forward that sounds. "If- If you want to, of course. Later. Maybe in some indeterminate time, if you so desired..."

Sama also sees how unintentionally forward it was, and he grins, also a little flushed. "No, I'd love to play some time! I'm free next Saturday, the whole day," he says, though soon adding his reasoning as to also not appear overly eager. "If it takes a while, which I imagine it must."

"Heh, yeah, it does," Hama replies somewhat bashfully, as if sorry for taking up Sama's time. "Does 10:00 AM work for you?" He asks, already grabbing a notepad to make a schedule, scribbling on it as he seems Sama's nod of confirmation.

"Yeah, that's good. I'll bring snacks and the clothes back," Sama says as he makes a note in his phone. "In the meantime, can I buy the stuff I'll need?" He looks around at the shelves, wondering what a beginner would need. "We can use one of my sets first," Hama explains. "That way, if you decide it's not for you, you won't have spent seventy dollars on D&D stuff."

Sama nods again. "Cool, cool. Though, I think I wanna buy a dice set anyway. They look cool." He walks over to the dice shelf, picking out a set of dark red and dark purple swirled dice with gold lettering. "These caught my eye." Walking back to Hama, Sama finds the man already behind the counter.

"Ready to check out?" Hama asks kindly. "I remember my first dice set. Hopefully you'll get good use out of them." He rings up the item. "Twelve dollars and seventy-nine cents."

Sama pulls out thirteen dollars, handing them to Hama. "Keep the change," he says, trying very hard not to think about the way their hands brush as the money exchanges, and trying even harder not to blush as he maintains eye contact with Hama, who asks, "Would you like a bag?"

Hama's half-joking question snaps Sama out of the reverie. "No thanks," he replies. As Hama hands him the dice set, he barely registers the quarter glinting in the divot of the dice tube. "I'll, uh, see you Saturday, then," Sama says as he heads for the door. "Yeah, I'll see you here!" Hama replies, smiling as he waves softly.

Luckily, the rain had stopped in the time it took for Sama to change into the borrowed clothes, learn about D&D, and buy his dice. He walks down the street, and finally notices the quarter in the top of his dice tube. He laughs to himself. "That sly jerk. I'll just have to give him a nickel this Saturday..." Wondering how late he was and how many classes he had missed, and if Hama had been flirting, Sama walks quickly back to his college.

Hama, on the other hand, goes about tidying up his shop. Sama was a cute guy. Kind of nervous, but sweet and enthusiastic. Hama knew that if Sama got into D&D, he'd either be the best player ever, or a problem player. Hama though he would like it either way.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------Okay! That was a doozy of a first chapter. And the dark red and purple for the dice are #811310 and #241131 respectively for the hex code. I just took the names Hama (dark red, had to add the 0 on the end) and Sama (dark purple) and put the letters into numbers and the numbers into a hex code website. 2,182 words!