#Maybe I'll find a gem in there or something

[thehusbandoden]

I've been stressed out this past week and haven't been able to write much </3

I don't know what to write, but I kinda want to write either Dabi, Shoto, Hawks, or Tamaki??

Idk, do you mind lending me your brains for a minute? If you have a specific idea don't hesitate to send in a request <33

Tysm. 🥺 Feel free to comment/request anything if you'd like <3

~~~~~

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[multiiocular-mushroom]

Going back to that silly little Madoka AU for The Terror, and it's finally Hickey time :D

(bits of lore and another pic under the cut)

As a magical girl:

Funnily enough, out of the original cast he resembles Sayaka the most, up to fighting at very close range. Makes his deal with Kyubey soon after the flogging, which is why he is aware of the whole "you are now a Soul Gem piloting your former body" thing pretty much from the start and sees it more as a blessing. Considers trapping Tuunbaq and using its energy instead of merely killing it (think Alina Grey and her entrapment cubes). Also he's the one who takes down witch!Goodsir.

As a witch:

In those of Jopson's timelines where Hickey has the time to witch out before Tuunbaq shatters his gem, he becomes Эван Сесил, the elusive witch with a mirror for a face.

The inside of its barrier vaguely resembles London, every house window an empty grave. The witch is followed around the barrier by blinding light, making it even harder to analyze its appearance or movements. Its minions roam the premises on wooden horses, an attempt to still have the mutineers by its side. This witch exhausts you with chases until you slow down and are swallowed up by the ground/walls or stabbed by a minion.

One who fights this witch must convince it that it never existed in the first place.

[shiny-jr]

I’ve just had a vision, what if a yan (e.g riddle or vil because they are most princess-ish) was a trapped in a castle away like in one of those stereotypical fairy tales and the reader decides to save them because they are a ‘damsel in distress’ and reader is like a hero… only to realise there is a reason why they were locked away (because they were batshit crazy)

Warning: Yandere. Gender-neutral reader.

Characters: Vil Schoenheit.

Summary: You are a thief with freshly stolen goods. Chased and hunted down, you avoid capture by finding a castle hidden in gloom and fog. Locals told legends of this place, saying a royal had been trapped within. Of course, you don't quite believe such tall tales. That is, until you discover the royal and learned that they were purposefully sealed inside...

Note: I think I'll call this one, not your valiant savior. It's just a placeholder name for now. Just a quick post, so sorry if it's bad.

It was too easy. What did they expect when they left out a priceless object owned by the royal family and estimated to be worth a fortune? Of course a famed thief on the loose such as yourself, would just be itching to snatch the relic. And snatch you did, living up to your reputation of thief. Each member having unique abilities to assist in stealing. Your mother had speed to outrun anyone in a chase, your grandfather had the talent of picking any locks, your great-grandmother could sweet-talk anyone then rob them blind. And so on and so forth.

And of course, you had your own talent. As quiet as a mouse and with fingers that stuck to valuables like glue, stealing became like second nature. Literally. However, it wasn't exactly a talent valued by the wider community, and if you stole enough you could end up on terribly drawn wanted posters. Which is why staying in one place wasn't wise.

From place to place, you went taking and claiming anything of worth. When you got very low on cash, you set your sights high: on the vault that stored the royal's priceless treasures. There was bound to be endless riches stored within, if only you could get your grubby hands on them. Well, after careful planning, you had. It wasn't a giant gem or sack full of gold.

Time was short, so you had grabbed the closest thing you could before guards could find you. A golden box encrusted with jewels. Who knew what was inside? Maybe some family heirloom, a magical artifact, or something else of high value. And with the box, you bolted, and the chase had begun out of the city and through the woods.

As fast as you could, you ran through the mystic woods, a forrest travelers and locals alike were all wary of. It was the safest place you could go when chased by frightening palace guards on horseback that would do anything to take back what you stole and drag you back to the gallows. Even the woods heavy with fog and dark from the clouds overhead, had deterred your pursuers enough for you to slip out of their reach and deeper into the forrest where there was no way they would be able to track you. Here, you would have to wait until tomorrow and depart early. Then, you'd be home free and rich beyond your wildest dreams.

After what felt like hours of walking, you stumbled upon a bridge over a gloomy lake. In the middle, sat an old castle of gray stone and dark windows. A castle once said to hold a royal captive, but of course, you didn't believe such stories that were so old they were told to your own grandparents. This castle would be your sanctuary for the night. And maybe, just maybe, you'd clutch the jeweled box and dream of simpler times when you were told fairytales of locked away royals waiting for a savior.

The castle was exactly like those set in spooky tales, haunted by vengeful spirits and claimed by ghosts. It appeared abandoned, that much was obvious by the crumbling stone bridge and the battered old wooden doors that once protected the inhabitants.

Cautiously stepping over the splintered debris of the front door, you didn’t bother boarding it up since no one would be stupid enough to follow you inside.

There was wreckage and ruin everywhere. If you had to guess, whatever happened here, whether the people were driven away by conflict or time, it was followed by the destruction of time. Time with weather were likely all factors that led to the disarray of what was probably once a grand estate. Strangely enough, there was furniture and decor. Everything coated in dust and grime, but still here. Had people been too afraid to enter the grounds? There were so many valuables that could've been looted!

"I'll definitely have to come back here later." You scoff, turning over a few clothes or broken furniture with your foot to uncover possible hidden goodies. Maybe something as small but valuable as a ring was lost somewhere on the ground.

Proceeding to carry the golden box under your arm, you decide to search for the cleaniest, not-so-moldy room where you could spend the night. On the third floor halls, you see ripped curtains and frames where portraits loosely hung. Every rug was brown with dirt and dust.

There were items left behind, which showcased the life one led here. A piano too big to steal, the skeleton of a chandelier and broken gems hanging from its limbs, empty glass perfume bottles now filled with dust. The place must've been wondrous once, but now it was like a tomb. A setting frozen in time.

When you found moonlight filtering through the open balcony of what looked to be the master bedroom, you paused to see the space wrecked more than the others. As if more than just weather and time had affected this place. The owner of this castle likely slept in this very room, on that very bed where the sheets were ruffled and unkempt.

"I wonder who used to live here..." You murmur to no one in particular, as you approach the balcony looking over the bridge and woods. This would be a good vantage point.

A heavy fog settled over the woods, extending over the bridge like water. Good, an extra layer for cover. You stepped back into the room, analyzing every carved piece of wooden furniture, makeup and brushes stored on tabletops, a separate room as long as a hallway and filled with all types of articles of clothing.

If all this was still here, then was it possible some jewelry was left behind? You scoured the room, looking for hidden compartments while murmuring to yourself to fill the ominous silence. As you pulled back a curtain against a wall, you furrowed your eyebrows when you saw an uneven lump underneath the wallpaper.

Could this be handle leading to a vault of treasures? With that in mind, you ripped off the old wallpaper. A glimmer of gold made your heart soar with hope, but when you caught sight of your reflection, you stopped and stared. A mirror. It was a large mirror, oval shaped, with golden borders so intricately decorated. However, when a hand suddenly appeared on the other side of the mirror, like a ghostly apparition, you screamed and stumbled back.

A hand– there was a hand in the mirror! You stared with widened eyes full of shock, as the hand pressed its palm against the surface of the glass. You couldn't see anything else, no one behind the hand. After a second, the slim pale hand delicately pointed a long dainty finger at the box you were holding in a vice grip.

"What...? This? You want this? But..."

You had worked hard to procure this golden box from the royals. Pursing your lips, you contemplated your options, with so many questions running rampant in your mind. What was that thing? A magic mirror? A magic mirror would be priceless, much more valuable than any gold. However, if it was magic, it would be tricky. Possibly even sentient. So you'd have to gain its favor.

"Alright, alright, the box. You know, I went through hell trying to get this."

You informed the mirror, unsure if it even understood you. You carefully set down the heavy box in front of the mirror, and watch as the hand made a motion with its fingers.

Click!

It had unlocked the box, without even a key or tool. A grin broke out on your face. Had it done it for you? Apparently not, because the box opened on its own and a heavy thick tome floated out from it and into the air. The hand beckoned the tome closer, and closer it came, until it was literally phasing through the glass.

"Hey! Wait––"

The glass shattered, the sound booming and ringing out in the silence like an explosion. You only had a second to react, instinctually using your arms to shield your face from the glass flying out in every direction. When it stopped, you looked around. The mattress was shredded, the curtains torn to shreds, wooden furniture cut as if done by an axe, but miraculously you were somehow unharmed.

A breath, not of your own, caught your attention. Your eyes darted over to the now broken mirror, awestruck at the vision of a figure stepping over broken glass. They were beautiful, gorgeous, stunning, more than any words could convey. Their hair like gold and eyes an alluring shade of purple like two amethyst stones, soft pink lips, and a tall slim pale figure clothed in odd robes. For a moment, whoever this person was, appeared disoriented for a brief moment, but they clutched the tome like a lifeline. The tome that came from the box you had stolen.

"Thank you––"

He breathed, his voice quiet as he attempted to stand tall and upright. When his legs nearly gave out beneath him, you were there to catch his hand and prevent him from falling as he looked at you with appreciation. You were just stunned, bewildered, in pure disbelief.

"You... You freed me. You returned my stolen tome...!"

He exclaimed in disbelief, as he restored his posture. Somehow, he was able to stand in heels, but heels were currently one of the least important details.

What did he mean freed?

There was no time to ask any questions. The loud sound of the shattering must've alerted any of your pursuers that had followed you thus far, because from the balcony you could make out the torchlights weaving their way directly towards the bridge.

The mysterious man from the mirror took notice of your expression of dismay as he glanced at the distant torchlights. Smoothing out his robes, he looked back at you and took in your expression. "Enemies of yours?"

"Yes..." You nod slowly.

"Now that just won't do. I can't have anyone harming, or even killing my savior. I've yet to even learn your name." Tapping some well-manicured fingers against the spine of the tome, he appeared to contemplate something. When he stopped tapping his fingers, he smiled so sweetly. "I am Vil Schoenheit, prince and prodigy. Here's my proposition to you, my savior: I will destroy your enemies for a small price. You must tell me your name, and I will grant you my protection."

Of course you gave him your name, and almost immediately you saw the fog below turn an odd color. The torchlights flickered out, you no longer heard their encouraged shouts to move forward but instead their screams echoing in the dark woods. All after Vil murmured a few words in a foreign tongue read from his tome, as he continued to gaze at your intently. What exactly was he to cause so much death in a single instant with hardly any effort...? And you were stuck in this abandoned castle with him.

The prince had no plans to abandon you, he's made that much clear when you attempted to casually part ways after thanking him for getting rid of your pursuers. Stay. I can make it worth your while. Once I reach my former glory, you'll be able to bask in it with me. Is what he said as you swore you heard the front of the castle be sealed shut.

The entire time he looked around the castle with disdain, cross as he complained about the state of his home. While helping him clean up some rooms, he told you more about himself. Vil was a prince who once lived in this castle, set to inherent the throne shortly after the death of his father. However, he was widely feared due to being a prodigy in dark magics and genius at brewing concoctions. For attempting to steal the life of a younger kinder foreign prince who specialized in good magic, he was trapped in a mirror with his tome being the only key to grant him freedom.

Vil actually appeared to be much too fond of you, which you attributed to his isolation. If you were imprisoned all alone in a mirror for centuries, you likely would've gone insane. It was a miracle Vil's mind was intact, but maybe he wasn't there entirely. Because what sane person killed people with the snap of their fingers while smiling so kindly at the one who set him free?

Pridefully he listed off his feats and accomplishments. Living prodigy. Most beautiful man in the land. Prince of the land. It felt too much like flaunting, as he wanted you to realize how truly great he was. He replaced your clothes with his own, and while combing your hair he reminded you that what's rightfully his will be returned to him one day, and you would be there beside him that day.

The crown was what he wanted, a crown he believed was stolen from him and passed down to the descendants of the very good prince he attempted to kill. He spoke of a future in the castle restored to its former glory, where citizens would be loyal to him once again, and those that wronged him will receive a fate worse than death. Positions were open for applying once he became king, he told you one day. He was still searching for a vassal, a knight, a jester, or a partner to wear a crown as well.

Was it the isolation that had driven him to become so attached to the one who set him free? It was possible, but you couldn't even be sure. For all you knew, he could've been like this before he became trapped in the mirror. What mattered now was that he did not make any effort to hide his attraction towards you. Vil was offering a thief all the riches he would attain after his plan for vengeance, and his heart in a golden box.

"Keep the knives I gifted you, although I doubt you'll have to resort to lifting a finger. Just allow me to handle it when the time comes. I want to extract vengeance slowly and painfully, make them hurt just as they did to me... And at the end of the day, you will be there, you little thief who stole my affections, to comfort me and drive away those memories of cold lonely centuries in darkness. You'll be there for me, won't you, my valiant savior?"

[nonranghaes]

heads up! stardew. they r gaming.

"... wonwoo, what did i just find in the quarry?"

wonwoo freezes for a moment, glancing up. shit. you weren't supposed to go there. he starts moving slowly, a hand dipping into his desk drawer as you stare at your computer screen. thankfully, you don't seem to notice the movement.

"a diamond node?" he acts as casual as he can be, tucking something into his pocket. this isn't the plan, but he can improvise. when the hell did you ever go to the quarry...? must have been a misclick on the way to the mines or something. maybe he should have hid the chest somewhere else.

"don't try that shit," you look over. the chest is still open on your screen, and the wedding ring item sits right there at the end of a string of other items--ore, gems, a few bombs he'd thrown in there last second. "wonwoo. were you going to video game marry me?"

"you married us in the sims," he points out. "i was going to surprise you."

"when did you even find another prismatic--" you pause. "wonwoo."

"i got lucky," he chuckles. "well?"

you pop it into your inventory, already pressing keys to go find him in-game. "i'm stealing it. gonna propose to you instead. where are you?"

"i was planting our flowers," he doesn't turn back to his screen. he just watches you with this soft smile on his face. "come and get me, then."

your farmer is booking it down the bus stop's path and onto the farm, searching the neatly organized area for him (his doing, but you did help put down paths). he sees you try to propose in game... and then gets down on one knee when he sees that victorious smile on your face.

"i'll say yes in a moment, but..." he nudges you before holding up the opened box. you turn, and immediately he has to fight back a laugh at the wide-eyed expression on your face. "marry me in this life, too."

[kichiyosh1]

An eternity with you: I'll choose you time and time again

Wanderer x fem!reader

You always seem to find your way back to him. What a troublesome being you are. Fortunately for you, he wouldn't be able to stop you either way. You're the one he chose, after all.

Crazy plot twist that will leave you baffled🫨(but i think i made way to obvious lol)

"What's that?"

You always noticed the charm wanderer had next to his Anemo Vision. It was in the shape of a Sumeru rose, a vibrant chrysalis purple that, when caught in the light, would shine like the glowing bioluminescent beaches of Tatarasuna.

"Someone... gave it to me." For a moment, you could see the nostalgic expression on his face as he caressed the precious gem. It's an emotion so rare for him to display that you're unsure if you should be amazed by this new expression or perhaps a bit uneasy. It's rare for anything to capture the wanderer's attention, and if you were to assume how much that charm meant to him then

"This someone must be special," you subconsciously averted your gaze, but the wanderer was quick to pick up on it. He adorned a sly smirk on his face before it quickly turned to one of amusement. He let out a small chuckle before his eyes began to soften.

You sure like to poke around in my past, don't you?" He sighed, unsure where to start from there, but he's determined to convey his feelings.

"This person showed me the true meaning of eternity, something my creator was always so obsessed with. She was able to give it meaning to me with just her simple existence. It'd be an understatement if I wasn't just a little bit fond of this person."

You regretted asking. The look of bliss and admiration on his face made you feel like the most insignificant thing in the world right now, next to his special someone.

"Where is this person? Is she still around? Are you searching for her?"

"I'm... not exactly actively seeking her out right now."

"Do you keep the charm to remember her?" at that he simply looked to the side, a sheepish expression on his face before he went back to neutral.

"I've never forgotten her. She was the one who forgot me. We've crossed paths but she has no memory of me. She can't even recall the time she gifted me this charm."

He said it with such a casual tone that it left you feeling appalled.

How could she?!

You no longer regretted asking, only feeling indignation for what he's suffered through.

"Wanderer..." you put both hands on his shoulders, startling him in the process. You were too caught up in the moment to even notice the creeping tint of red on his face.

"What are you—"

"Please forget about her!"

"Wait I—"

"You deserve better! Deep down inside, actually maybe we need to dig down reaaaally deep but I know it's there! Someone like you deserves to find your own happiness! So please!"

Tears were gathering at the rim of your eyes, and you couldn't tell if they were from wanderer's sad, tragic love story or from the fear that if you didn't succeed in persuading him to move on, there wouldn't be any place for you in his heart.

The wanderer was baffled; he didn't expect this much of a reaction from you. It made his chest clench with that same feeling she always gave him—the same feeling you always gave him.

He composed himself, awkwardly patting you on the back in a way to comfort you. "It's not that big of a deal you know. It's not like the story ended there." you just kept on adding pages

"Well, guess what." You didn't give him time to think before you started tugging him by his arm.

"We're going somewhere to get your mind off her. Oh, and we'll need to get rid of that charm. That way, you won't think of her anymore."

Unbeknownst to you, you were the one that gave it to him.

"I don't think that's necessary," he says, but he's smiling. Your worried and determined attitude made it clear that you cared about him, and he couldn't be any more grateful.

"Nonsense, I'll buy you a gazillion way better charms, so you can forget about this one." You glared and pointed at the item like it was the bane of your existence.

"If you're that insistent, then I want it handmade." His hands, though he's done this many times before in the past, trembled slightly when he properly grasped your hand in his.

"Alright." You grinned and he looked fondly at you in return

It was amusing how you got so worked up about, well, yourself. But at the end of the day, it's still you, isn't it? It will always be you, you, you.

"I'm more than content that you're still by my side."

Before he erased himself from Irminsul, he never would have thought he deserved a happy ending with you. Fate had a funny way of leading people on, and he was led like a moth to a flame. Maybe an eternity with you wouldn't be so bad. No, he didn't mind, as long as it was you he'd be spending it with.

His precious sumeru rose.

─⁠──⁠──⁠──⁠─

"Heh, you always have a peculiar way of coming into my life."

"Is this about how I sneaked into the academia?"

"Mhm, don't worry. I'll make sure to leave the door wide open for you next time."

[theminecraftbee]

task: answer the following question. do you believe in curses? respond as completely with relevant information as possible.

Grian: Well, that's a lie. This isn't a task. I know it's not a task, I set the things up! Not sure why we're getting a question as pointless as this one, but sure, mysterious scroll, I'll answer. There's no such thing as curses, unless you're Timmy, in which case it's funny, yeah? Besides, I didn't actually kill Etho. Even if that did count, self-fulfilling prophecies aren't the same thing as curses, and I know which one I fall under.

Joel: Do I believe in bloody curses what kind of question is that? Do I really get hearts just for answering this? This feels like a prank or something... well, whatever. There are no such thing as curses, except the Boogeyman curse, which I sort of had today, but it wasn't actually the same at all. A lot of the bloodlust, sure, but a lot more... Etho had to be the one to do it, huh? And it's not the same. Not comforting. That's a stupid thing to say actually. Take it out of wherever you're putting this. Cut it out of the recording. Comforting. Please. As if it were ever... Yeah, I'm done actually. Don't have a good answer. Go away.

Scott: What, other than Jimmy? Bless that man, he may not have died first, but he sure tried his best. Sure, I'll believe Jimmy is cursed. I mean, mostly he's just kind of stupid. Lovingly so. I mean, despite him being stupid, I put up with him, right? That seems like a complete answer to this question. Jimmy's an omen but we put up with him anyway. That's all.

Mumbo: NO RESPONSE GIVEN.

Pearl: Oh, I mean, I'm probably cursed. That's what everyone liked to say at one point. I think... I mean, I think this time I have good friends, which is nice. They don't think I'm cursed. And it's not like I--I mean, it's surprisingly fun, acting cursed! And I am just acting. Acting scary, blowing up dance floors, all of that. And I don't really have to this time, so... Maybe I'm not cursed? And since it's acting, it's not real? This is a weird question.

Etho: Oh, man, that's a question. Um, do I have to answer? Because I feel like if I say no, that's really just asking for it, but if I say yes, I have to explain myself. Uh, I think I'm abstaining, unless the zombie thing from earlier counts. That was scary and I hated it. Curses are scary and I hate them in general, but apparently I'm good at them, if you ask everyone else. Um, it's not the only thing I find scary that apparently I'm good at.

Scar: Why, of course I believe in curses! Look at poor, poor... Timbert? Timmy? Jim? Gosh, sorry, I'm very tired right now. That's more proof of curses, by the way! That I'm tired. I've been tired straight since the desert, let me tell you what. And that, my friends, is a curse like no other. What a terrible beast, loneliness is. Wish me luck breaking it, because it's not happening this season!

Cleo: Oh, you mean the thing people like to blame instead of their own actions? Nah. My soulbond was kind of a curse, I guess, but even that's at least half just... bad people. Bad relationships. Good ones, too. We're all just doing what you can, you know? No script, no curses, no characters, just... Oh, I hope everything turns out tomorrow. Sorry, that's unrelated. It's just nicer to hope than to preemptively blame things on curses that don't exist.

Impulse: Well, I mean, I didn't until you just asked me that, but now I feel like I should. Wouldn't that be nice? Being cursed instead of just sort of unlovable? Sorry, no, that's mean to Gem. I shouldn't say that about Gem, she's been good this season. Super, super cursed, mind you, in the like, game mechanic sense? But she's been good, no backstabbing or inability to get love involved. Um, and I guess that's not fair to Bdubs, kind of, except it also totally is and I haven't forgiven him. So I guess if they ask I said I believed in curses, and that's why my life keeps circling clocks? Don't put any of that other stuff down, I'm trying to work on that.

Lizzie: NO RESPONSE GIVEN.

Gem: I was just cursed for a task, but that probably isn't what you're asking about, right? I'm new, so I don't know! A task is a concrete thing to believe in, like bloodshed or victory or fun and games. You don't have to believe in those to know they're real, either! They just are, whether you like it or not. I understand that much!

Tango: Gah, don't talk to me about... Deep breaths. Look, I don't care if it's a curse, or if it's just me being really bad, or what, I'm not going out pointlessly this time. Jimmy managed not to die first, I can manage to not go out to a stray arrow or my own bomb or a misstep this time, right? Is that so much to ask?

Skizz: Huh? Curses? I mean, I don't think so, and to be totally honest I think it's kind of mean the way people sometimes rag on people about them. Everyone's got so many good things about them! Why do people like to focus on the unfortunate luck, huh?

Bdubs: Hah! Curses! Let me tell you about curses. When I see curses, I eat them for breakfast. I don't got curses, I've got better things to do! I've got my buddies with the Mounders, and I've got-well, I'd say keeping Etho safe, but he's being weird at me again this season. Not that it matters. It never matters. Etho and I, we're... The point is, that doesn't matter anyway, because I have the Mounders, and they're the ones who matter here. And because I'm a strong, independent Bdubs, who doesn't need anyone but my bow and my perfect, flawless fighting prowess! Sorry, what was the question? I've been thinking so much lately that it's just sort of made everything else pop out of my head, so it's hard to keep track. I'm sure I answered it flawlessly, though.

Martyn: Of course there are curses. That's half the fun for you lot, isn't it? Putting your little curses on us and watching us rail against them. Bet you think it's real cute to ask us what we think of the things, too. "Oh, what do you think of curses," like we have any control over them. Please. If I had any control over curses, Jimmy--or, well, no, I guess that one was technically broken, wasn't it? Sure doesn't feel like it. Point is, curses are bad, and they're definitely real, and I hate you for them, got it?

BigB: Look, man, if you're trying to get me to write my character out for you, just say so! I won't tell anyone. We can come up with a hole thing about holes and red tasks and the Backrooms together! It'll be fun! After all, you probably don't know what kind of curse to say I have, right? Haha, just kidding. I have no idea what I'm talking about. Luckily, neither does anyone else, so I think that evens out between the lot of us.

Jimmy: NO RESPONSE GIVEN.

[inez-winchester-cameron]

Rafe x reader Onlyfans couple with lots of dirty talk 🤭

cw: rafe x fem!reader, smut obviously, onlyfans, daddy kink, meanish!rafe (hes being sweet at first then he switches fast), praise, degradation, face/pussy slapping,

to be honest rafe had hated the idea when you had first pitched it to him. you two had just had sex and were snuggling in his bed when you quietly asked if he would be willing to listen to an idea without getting pissed off and at first the idea did piss him off. why should other people get to see your gorgeous body? you're his. but after some talking and reassurance, he agreed and you two started making videos.

your back is to rafe's chest as you warm his cock with your tight pussy. emerald green lace adorns your body and brings out your skin tone as the light shines on you two. in addition, a pretty emerald necklace hangs down your neck, the gem landing right between your breasts. rafe's cock is eight inches deep in your pussy, with the thong of the lace set pulled to the side.

"rafeee," you quietly whine when you hear the ripping noise as rafe pulls the cups of the bra down to under your tits.

"shhh," he coos, "y'know daddy will buy you more." rafe was never very careful with any of your sets, insisting that he can just buy you more, "now be a good girl nd let's give them something to watch, hm?"

rafe's fingers start squeezing and tugging at your tits, eliciting whines and moans from you. the camera rolls, capturing every expression that comes to your gorgeous face.

"rafe can i-"

a swift smack lands on your clit at this and you whimper loudly.

"is that my fucking name?"

"n-no daddy, m sorry daddy, m so sorry i-"

"no you're not, you're such a damn brat. on your knees."

"but daddy your cock is in me and i don't-"

another slap is left on your clit as you plead and beg, rafe's voice taking on a venomous tone, "get on your fucking knees before i grab you by the hair and make you."

you quickly lift yourself off of his cock, biting your lip to stop a whine from leaving your lips at the sudden emptiness. in less than ten seconds you're on your knees, looking up at rafe, face to face with his gorgeous cock.

after readjusting the camera to get everything in frame, rafe's hand finds its way to your hair and he's guiding you to his cock. you immediately take his heavy cock into your mouth, doing your best to lick every inch of him. you love the low groans that leave his lips when you suck his cock and this time is no exception.

with a tug to your hair, rafe groans out, "fuck, that's it, baby. knew you could be a good girl." rafe lets you take your time, too tired to fuck into your mouth after a long day, "that's it, slut, suck your daddy's cock. take good fuckin' care of me."

absent-mindedly, you move a hand down to your pussy, pawing at your cunt, turned on from the combination of rafe's dangerous eyes watching you, his hair falling into his face, the hands tugging at your hair, and the cock in your mouth.

"aww...daddy left you gaping, huh? you poor fucking thing." you whimper as rafe smacks your cheek, making you immediately pull your hand back. but it's too late, rafe is pissed again. he tugs you off his cock by your hair, pulling you up and throwing you onto the bed, "can't handle not having my cock in your cunt? oh i'll give it to you, whore, and you're gonna let all of the island know what a slut you are for me. and maybe if i'm feeling like it i'll send Topper the link to our only fans, think he'd enjoy seeing your slutty little cunt get stretched and destroyed."

[otterloreart]

MLP-Takara generations: a design experiment

Takara MLPs are considered generation 1 My Little Pony; the original ponies look like little horses and the takaras are obviously very different.

But the standard MLP toyline underwent a lot of changes throughout the years... so, if the takaras had been successful, what would their changes look like?

Generation 1 year 2+ takaras.

Year one MLP was only a few ponies with a single color of body + matching hair... just like the takaras. It was year 2 that they introduced unicorns. pegasus, and seaponies.

You all know I've already been concepting these so it's not surprising at all. As MLP g1 went on, they ended up doing more and more gimmicks throughout the 80s which would also be kind of fun to see the takaras do... (hint hint if you want me to draw those lmk which gimmicks are your favorites)

I also think they should bring in markings like the normal ponies but that could be part of the gimmicks. Maybe on their cheeks, or on their bellies like care bears?

In the later years og MLP also had a lot of variations on the normal pony body type, so maybe you could also see the takaras with that kind of variant, so that might be cute:

Moving on!

Generation 2

If you aren't big into early gen My Little Pony you might not know that generation 2 didn't do very well; it was a reboot of a beloved franchise, it was new, and different, and all that jazz:

Main differences between them and g1: first, you can see they have a very late G1-type body, which is why I pointed out the thinner pony in g1. Their face is less detailed and rounder, but they have a little more expression, very smiley.

Their ears have a more horse-y curled in shape, they have fur around their hooves (in g1 only the boy ponies had hoof floof), and they have a gem in their eye.

Also they had a lot more moving-leg gimmicks where you could push one part of their body and another would move (eg push tail -> bobs head)

So you may ask, how am I could to g2-ify the takaras? After all, they are already much rounder than the g1 ponies. Well, I'm not going to make them just *look like* the g2 ponies, although I'll borrow more elements.

Instead: I am going to take and exaggerate all of the differences that I listed above and see what we come up with.

So! Here is my idea for g2 takara pony. I feel like its the exact balance of very cute and something that would upset collectors familiar with the original takaras, just as g2 upset the g1 fans.

First off, she's thinner, the iconic takara nose is removed in favor of a sculpt with a smiling mouth, the legs are more horse shaped with fluff and human fingers to match the additional foot detail. a lot of people find the g2s a little "uncanny" so I feel like this works.

The sparkley eye gem and ear shape are just straight off the original g2s, just to have extra gimmick to it (also the og takaras basically had the g1 ears)

g2 came out in the late 90s so I like to imagine the pony eyes would be extra shoujo too

Finally, a ball jointed head for more flexibility. (yes the arm would be posed like that in the doll, because its a more dynamic pose, and we can also assume that the larger size allows the doll to have a joint with more flexibility)

g2 had pretty similar gimmicks to g1 but also had some light up ponies, so maybe the takaras could have some with that gimmick too

fun fact, g2 MLP was sold for a longer time in Europe and performed better there.

Generation 3

Generation 3 ponies are a pretty clear return to g1 MLP style, kinda scrapping most of the changes g2 made, other than proportionally thinning out the ponies a bit.

g3 ponies have very similar face sculpts with bigger eyes, nearly the same legs, and their heads just a bit bigger in proportion to their body

They do remind me a lot of the g1 Petite ponies, which were 1 inch sculptures that also had those proportionally bigger eyes and chunkier legs.

I have here included the g1 so you can see the slight changes better! I think the main difference would be the g3 takara would be a lot rounder, smoother, and cutesy-er. While the original has the hello-kitty simple cute look, the g3 version would definitely have like eyelashes and big eyes.

The only other thing to note about the body is some bigger ears, a generally rounder face, and round feet.

There weren't many gimmicks super /unique/ to g3 but one I wanted to highlight was the Breezies. G1 did have the flutter ponys, which were ponies with butterfly/dragonfly type wings, but the breezies are like their own little species AND they have antennae. While the flutter ponies were sort of graceful and thinner than the other ponies, the breezies are like little chibi-er ponies.

A little bit Littlest Pet Shop-core, since its the early 2000s too.

SPEAKING OF

Generation 4 Generation 3.5

Before there was gen4 there was a subset of Gen3 ponies with a different and unique style. They were basically an exaggerated version of the Breezies with even bigger feet and tinier snouts. They are also VERY littlest-pet-shop-core.

So, pretty straightforward changes

Just an even more chibi, kid-ish style pony. I think the g3.5 ponies were even meant to be kids. So this is just an even more child-friendly, littlest pet shop type horsey.

Generation 4

So, obviously generation 4 ushered in a whole new era of My Little Pony with its unique and bright artstyle, which did need to transfer over to the ponies

Personally, while I love g4 in a lot of ways im not a fan of the toys in the same way I am the other generations, their little noses have shrunk to specks, they're skinnier and more big-eyed than ever. Well, g3.5 was pretty big-eyed but at least those ones were like little kids.

This is such a drastic shift from g1/g3 and even g4, I would be unsure about the takaras.

So: eyes, bigger. Snout, so tiny and so smooth. Ears, bigger. Hooves are flatter and parts of the legs are just kinda featureless. a longer neck. They released a decent amount of ponies with plastic hair this gen, too.

I was struggling to come up with a doll for this one, but I finally realized I was doing it backwards. The thing that makes g4 stand out, I think, is the fact it was fundamentally designed opposite from g1. Lauren Faust, an animator, designed the ponies and the toys had to be designed around her art.

So the primary difference was considering what a tv show- a tv show concieved in the 2000s and airing in 2010s- and I did look into some kids properties from that time period as I was designing

I think these Strawberry shortcake dolls are really close to the concept I'd want for a early 2010s mirror of MLP g4. So basically these toys but more anthro.

I ended up making a 3D mockup so I'd be able to plan the different angles and keep them consistent.

The eyes are kind of far apart but I think thats true of the g4 pony toys as well. Again, because of the way the g4 show was stylized as animation, there was sort of cheating with the anatomy, especially on the face.

Generation 4.5

Gen 4.5 was a spinoff of gen4, just like gen3 had 3.5 where the ponies are more chibi. More big eyes with even bigger ears and a face like... a cats? instead of a horse. Hoof fluff again.

I think this nailed the style without being as much of an outright copy. The bendy arms with fingers seem so silly but also I think that matches the vibe/artstyle.

G4.5 don't look like horses to me really at all though, they're like cats with hooves. Out of all of them we've seen so far they're suffering the most from "predator eyes" where they've gone so far as to make their eyes just face forward.

Generation 5

Generation 5 premiered with a CGI movie, so the toys that would be released are fairly on model with their movie selves except for the fact their heads are smack dab in the middle of their neck which i find extremely unsettling and dislike

We've gone full "predator eyes" (no the predator eyes thing doesnt 100% biologically hold up but I find them freaky and I get to say it) AND full human eyebrows stenciled in like a makeup vlogger in the same color as the hair.

The ears are back to cup shaped (more horselike) but again the face is round with a little muzzle (more catlike). The hooves have really detailed feathering on the legs. Otherwise the body is mostly just structured like the g4 body (except a bit longer) just with more specific horse details.

These continued the trend of having a lot more articulated versions with moving legs as well. I think given that most dolls these days have articulated elbows and knees, it is reasonable to expect the takara g5 dolls would too.

Again, I made a 3D model so I could keep it consistent from various angles.

ta-daaaa heres my takara pony generations 1-5 lineup! Tell me which youuuuur favorite are. if you want.

[gomzwrites]

Task force 141 found out about your soft spots | Part 2

Summary: Ever since they saw the softer part of you, the task force 141 has been trying to see more of them. a/n: This is a follow-up from the previous part! It can be read separately but part 1 gives more context :)  Also! The dividers were made by @gomzdraws (which is also me lol) apologies if I took too long! I'll have to admit I got a bit carried away with part :>

Tags: incorrect military terms, fluff, can be read as platonic or romantic, horrible attempt at Scottish accent(I gave up near the end xD), mention of dog bites, x gn!reader

PLEASE DO NOT RESHARE MY WORK ON OTHER PLATFORMS WITHOUT MY PERMISSION

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Captain John Price

The two of you returned to base after just recently completing the mission; the target was secured and handled, and you rested in the general area as you looked through your phone again, updating your to-do list as you had stumbled upon the photo of the cute latter art previously. You stop and lean on the counter as you smile. It's so freaking cute, you think to yourself before a nudge takes your attention.

"Come", was all the captain said before you quickly followed along without questions. You’re always eager to follow any instructions he gives; maybe he needed to discuss the upcoming mission. But it’s obvious it's not going to be that as you sit in his car. Where are we going?

You ask curiously as you fasten the seat belt. The Captain only gives you a smile as he presses the gas pedal. "Just getting something to eat", he replies as you nod and relax into the chair. Well, it's nearing evening, and you are, in fact, quite hungry, so a small bite before dinner doesn’t sound too bad. It wasn’t long before you finally reached your destination. It’s a quiet town that has a few stalls and shops, and you walk alongside the captain until you stop before a small cafe, tucked nicely at the end of the street.

You look through the window as you watch the few people and barista chilling inside. It looks warm and cosy; there were soft fairy lights lining the pale yellowish wall with brown pillars supporting the structure. The captain gently places his hand around your back as he guides you to enter the cafe. You follow along as you take in the fresh smell of coffee and pastries and the sight of the small place. Price let you wander around for a while before taking a seat near the stairs, and a waiter quickly came as he greeted him. 

"Ah John! It's been a while; I see you brought company." The older man then hands you both the menu as he chuckles and bumps the captain’s shoulder. Price nods back as he glances back at you and says, "Pick anything you want, it’s on me", You give him a surprised look before you nod and take a look. You smile as you look through the list on the menu; it has a lot of cute drinks and desserts, so he saw. You thought to yourself as you ordered a latte; it's apparently their best-selling drink with the 3D cat milk foam on top of the drink. The waiter nods as he looks at Price, to whom he orders tea and some apple strudels. The waiter takes down the order on his notepad before promptly returning to the counter and preparing the orders.

How did you find this place? You ask the captain as you take in the surroundings again; it's a hidden gem, that’s for sure, and the prices on the menu were not bad as well.

"I knew this place because Oliver, the man who took our order just now, used to go to the same college", you hum as a reply and nod.

It's a nice place, and I can’t wait to try the drink, you reply back with a smile as your eyes twinkle with excitement. The captain chuckles as he nods. 

"Well, I didn’t take you as someone who likes these kinds of things, but it's a pleasant surprise, don’t worry. So I figured I'd bring you here." 

He raised an eyebrow out of amusement as he watched you blush slightly. You huffed out a puff of air before you replied sheepishly, 

Ah well, I guess cute things are my weakness after all; who would’ve guessed? 

"Just don't let the enemy know, and you’ll be fine", the captain jokes back as your drink arrives, and you immediately close your mouth as you watch the foam wiggle around when it was placed gently on the table. 

Oh my god, you whisper to yourself as you gasp and take in the sight, quickly taking your phone out and taking a picture. You glance back at Price with sparkling eyes as you tilt your head, giving him a "are you seeing this?" look as he chuckles and nods. He can feel the joy radiating from your face as you go ahead and stare at the drink, and the way you carefully turn the cup around to see the whole thing? Precious.  

He watches you take a sip. You close your eyes and give a nod as you savour the taste. Not only was the drink cute, but the flavour was perfect as well. You can smell the coffee's aroma and see how smooth the drink is. You didn’t realise when you had a bit of foam below your nose as you smiled back at the captain. Price couldn't help but laugh slightly as he took a tissue and wiped off the foam from your face. "Guessing you like it then?", you nod as you place down the cup and cover your mouth slightly to hide the pink blush that’s creeping up to your cheek. 

Yeah, it's not too bitter, and it tastes pretty rich. I like it. You reply as you watch him hum and take his strudel and tea. 

"Good, we can come here again next time". He says this as he gives you a warm grin and a wink.

John Soap MacTavish 

It was another week of training with the two military dogs, specifically Max and Judy, two German Shepherds who have been quite fond of you as they follow the training. Over the course of the regimen, you are supposed to reinforce essential handling techniques and carry out a few conditioning exercises like generalised commands. You may not be a military dog handler, but the training has definitely improved your skills to be one. Soap has joined you on a few training sessions and watches on the side as you smoothly handle the dogs, carrying out the essential steps and watching as the dogs follow you obediently. He finds it inspiring to see you train with the professional dog handler, Sergeant Sam, who has been offering a lot of help and tips. 

Today, Sergeant Sam guides you through controlled aggression training for Max, something the dog has had some trouble with for the past few days. Max has shown a good level of precision when commanded to attack a target, but its restraint technique still needs more practice, as Max tends to move before you give your words. You coo and guide Max as you carry out the demonstration, pointing at the volunteer as Max growls. You hold onto the leash firmly when Max tries to run towards the target, and you speak with a steady, calm voice as you patiently coo at the dog. 

Alright Max, steady. Not yet. Stay. 

Your voice hushed Max as it reduced his growl and made him stand on the ground, no longer pulling on the leash, and wait for your next command.

Okay, good boy Max, you don't forget to praise it immediately. This is one of the many bits of advice given by Sergeant Sam, it is said to give the dog motivation and let it know it’s doing the right thing if you praise its action immediately. 

You finally gave the signal after a while, and Max immediately went to jump and bite on the protective coat the volunteer was wearing, growling and displaying its aggression as you guided the dog. Sergeant Sam and you continue to practise a few more times with Max to properly train him to improve his restraining skills. 

After a few hours, you were finally given a break as you sat on the floor, sweating as you gently rubbed Max’s head. 

There you are, good boy Max~ So proud of you!

 You whisper to Max as you feel something poke your back. You glance back and smile as you watch Judy (the other military dog) wagging its tail and giving your cheek a lick. 

Ah! Judy, did you miss me? Hey now, who’s a good boy~?

You immediately shower Judy with attention and pat its head as you glance up to watch Soap approaching you. You wave to him as he stands at a distance. You watch his nervousness show as he rubs his neck and taps his foot repeatedly on the ground. You then stand up and order Max and Judy to sit and remain still on the floor as you walk to Soap. 

Sergeant Soap, good to see you. You greeted him with a smile as he relaxed slightly and smiled back at you. 

"Aye, I saw da training todae; it seems yer gettin better at this!", he said as he nervously glanced back at Max and Judy before staring back at you again. You nodded appreciatively as you chuckled and spoke. 

Yeah, Max and Judy have been behaving well, and the training with them is running smoothly. They remind me of my own dog back home, you say fondly as you watch him glance back at you with a surprised grin. 

"Wut? You owned a German Shepherd? That’s perfect, then, actually", You watch as he shuffles around his pocket as he holds out a bag of snacks; it’s Milk-Bone dog biscuits! You smile widely as he hands you the snack. 

"Well, I wanted to give it to ya as a wae to say thanks since yer took the job for me; you seem close to dogs anyhow; I hope I bought the right thing". Soap says as he laughs and pats your shoulder, "What’s the name?", He asks before you take out your phone and proudly show him photos of your own German Shepherd. It's big, and it has a golden sable pattern that shines ever so slightly under the sun. 

Named it Meatball because he always managed to steal some from the kitchen. He is my little ball of sunshine, you explain with a soft giggle as you show him more pictures, swiping the gallery before stopping on one where you were carrying Meatball with a struggling look, face scrunched up with a frown with a grin, you chuckle as you look back at Soap, 

He’s almost 5 years old now and still jumps and expects me to carry him around like a baby, even when he's 60 pounds! 

Soap laughs along as he stares at the photo. You looked so happy and content, and he likes how cheerful and giddy you are when you start talking about your dog. He’s still scared of dogs, but he felt like with you, he might be able to overcome that fear a little as he listens to your stories. 

I'm sorry for babbling so much, by the way. You stop halfway when you realise you’ve been talking for the past 10 minutes about your own dog, but Soap quickly shakes his head as he rests his hand on your shoulder, giving you a reassuring look as he speaks,

"No, no, go on. I love hearing yer talk about Meatball. He’s really cute!", Soap says as he gives you a nudge. "might even visit the fella with how sweet he sounds". Your eyes beamed when he suggested that,

Really? I mean, I don't want to force you to meet him if you’re still uncomfortable and all

Soap nods again as he gives a chuckle. 

"Well, I think I'm still a bit nervous, but it's something I want to try again, ya know?", You nod in understanding before you think for a moment and give a reply as you glance back at the military dogs. 

How about you start by warming up to Judy? Max is a bit bigger and more intimidating, but Judy is smaller, and he’s more obedient. Do you want to try it? Soap sucks in a breath as he contemplates for a few minutes before finally sighing as he nods slowly. You smile as you rest your hand on his thigh to soothe his nerves. 

It's okay; you’re with me. It will be alright. You say gently as you call for Judy to come around. Soap watches as Judy slowly makes its way towards you and Soap, his legs shuffling a bit as his muscles tense up when Judy comes and sits in front of you.

Be good. Soap is going to touch you, okay? You coo at Judy as the dog gives a nod and rests its head on your knee. You glance back at Soap as you hold his hand and speak.

You’re going to be okay; Judy won't bite, I promise. Soap nods with a gulp as he lets you take his hand and guide it to Judy’s head. You watch as he retracts his hand a bit when Judy tilts its head to stare at Soap. 

"y-y/n…" Soap says nervously before you pause and rub his hand in small circles, 

It's alright; take it slow and don't worry. You speak patiently as you watch Soap nod and take a few deep breaths to calm himself down. You don’t move and continue holding his hand in the air, and wait to let him take the initiative to move, and not long after that, he starts running his finger along the head of Judy’s fur cautiously. Judy remains still as it closes its eyes and wags its tail slightly. You give a small chuckle as you whisper back to Soap,

You’re alright; look, Judy likes you. You say as Soap relaxes more as he watches in awe, smiling slightly when he watches the dog press its furry chin onto your knees and melt into his touches. It’s certainly a much different response to what he imagined, and the memories of dogs biting into his legs and arms still haunt him sometimes. He can feel those sharp teeth sinking into his skin and drawing blood in those nightmares, but now? This dog he's touching is peacefully laying on your knee, not moving an inch as he strokes his fur softly with his palm, it's unnerving to him still, like he still expects the dog to bite him if he lets down his guard. But slowly, he gets more comfortable when he sees no signs of that happening, he also knows that if you're here with him, he'll be alright.

Soap glanced back at you as he held his gaze. "Thank you...", he said with a tone full of appreciation as you smiled back at him and nodded. 

No worries, I'm happy you’re able to come this far, you say back with a soft tone as the both of you just continue like this, chatting idly back and forth as Soap slowly strokes Judy’s fur. By the end of the conversation, Judy was resting its head on Soap’s tight, and Soap was no longer trembling as he rests his hand on its head.

Kyle Gaz Garrick

Ever since Gaz dropped off the bear in your room, you’ve been trying to reach out to him. But many times that has not happened because of the busy schedules, and it also doesn’t help that you’re not often teamed up with him. 

However, when you do see him, you make sure to give him a nod and an appreciative stare as he returns the same. You’ll admit you were not as close to Gaz when compared to Ghost, but ever since the IKEA trip, both of you have been trying to change that, even if it’s just a bit. Sometimes he brews you a cup of tea in the morning; other times you’ll secretly take on his paperwork when you notice those tired eye bags in the morning. 

But you wanted to return the favour with more than just these small gestures. You’ve thought about a lot of options; the first thing was perhaps to buy him a game of sorts. You heard from Soap before that Gaz is a gamer himself and owns a Switch. The problem is that you’re not aware of what kind of games he’s into, and asking those questions will raise suspicions. You have a rough idea that he might like action role-playing and multiplayer games like Elden Ring and World of Warcraft; sometimes you know Soap and Gaz will play Mario Kart because of how loud their laughter can be in their room. But you don’t like guessing and would rather get him something you’re absolutely sure he will like. The other thing you wanted to get him was perhaps a hat or a scarf, seeing as he likes wearing those. But you learned that he is very attached to his scarf, so buying him a new one didn’t seem right to you. As for the hat, you actually found a blue beanie that might look good on him, but you decided to save it for his birthday. After many sleepless nights of trying to figure out what on earth to give him, the opportunity finally presented itself one day. You just finished a mission with the team, and as the crew made their way back to base, you noticed how Gaz’s gloves were damaged; the thumb side was burned off, most likely due to the explosion previously. Gaz took notice of your gaze and gave you a smile.

"It's alright; the rest of it is still fine I can live with it." 

You give a nod as he turns around and speaks to Soap again, back to their usual banter as Gaz elbows Soap for not warning him when the bomb goes off. You secretly thank Soap for his recklessness because now you know exactly what to get him.

You tip-toed around the base during the late hours, being quiet and stepping cautiously on the floorboard to avoid generating any noise. You rest your hand along the wall as you walk before finally reaching the door. You glance around once and finally bend down to put down the little green box with a cute yellow ribbon. You smile softly to yourself as you stand up, only to yelp slightly when Gaz taps on your shoulder from the back. 

"Hey, erm, what are you sneaking around for?-", he stops as you quickly glance back as you nervously stand before the gift, shuffling it behind your feet as you shake your head. Gaz watches your demeanour before he smiles as he looks down, noticing a small gift box. "I didn’t know it was my birthday today", he jokes with that charming smile of his, chuckling softly as he tilts his hand and leans closer.

"You don’t have to be so shy around me. Come on", He bends down to pick up the box as he opens the door. You were about to leave before he stops as he looks at you, motioning to enter his room. You gulp as you nod and follow along, deciding to sit on his bed beside him. You have never entered any member’s room at this point, and you’re surprised at how cosy his room is. A few blankets here and there; he even has a few plushies himself! You get distracted by his place without realising he has already pulled off the ribbon and taken out the gift. You turn around and face him when he lets out a gasp.

"YOU DID NOT-"

Gaz said excitedly as he held a pair of Moto gloves, navy in colour with a dash of blue camouflage, lined with hard leather that protects the knuckles. You watch as his eyes shine and he smiles so big that you can see his prominent canine teeth protruding, silently satisfied with yourself when he thanks you for the gift.

I've been wanting to return the favour since you got me the bear.

You say softly as he nods and tests out the glove. It’s a perfect fit as he feels the texture and size.

"This is amazing! I love it. Thank you so much", He thanks you again as he gives your head a pat. Both of you decided to stay for a while and chat idly after that.

Simon Ghost Riley

You were awake the entire night, blinking and shuffling around your bed as you sighed deeply. 

Another sleepless night 

You thought to yourself as you pressed a pillow to your own face. You usually have trouble sleeping sometimes—more than you would like to admit. Whether it's because of the stress that lingers after missions or because of nightmares, They plague your nights without mercy. 

You groan and sit up as you stare at the clock. 

It's about 5 a.m. already, and I still can’t sleep. 

You grumble to yourself as you stand and stretch, pissed that you can’t even enjoy a day off without getting a good night's sleep. You decided to run some laps around the field to tyre yourself out and nap afterwards. 

And you did just that, running around the field for the past half an hour already, yet somehow you can feel that you’re more awake than usual. You know you’re physically tired, but your mental state refuses to calm down and screams at you. You sat on the ground hopelessly before lying on it, staring up at the sky as you let out a long, defeated sigh as you let out a few more grumble.

"Good morning, y/n" comes a voice as you glance to your left, recognising it as you divert your gaze from his shoe to his mask.

Good morning, Lieutenant Ghost, You reply back as you sit up and frown, slightly embarrassed that he saw you like this. 

"Grabbing coffee for them, coming along?" He asks as he shakes the car key in his left hand, his other resting in the pocket of his black hoodie. You nod as you stand up by yourself and brush away the dust as both of you head to the jeep.

You’ve done this routine before with Ghost, sometimes doing it yourself. The group likes to take turns buying coffee and breakfast every weekend near the base; even the barista and workers have already recognised you guys at this point. 

"Ah, it's you, 3 black coffees and 2 Earl Greys as per usual, yes?" Ghost nods to the shorter barista as she promptly prepares the drinks. You stood beside Ghost as you glanced around when you waited for the order before catching your sight on the fridge that displayed pastries and other small bites. 

swiss roll!! 

You take notice of the delicacy as you step closer to the glass. They rarely have cakes, at least whenever you come to visit anyway; mostly they display croissants or sandwiches, and you have to admit that the swiss roll they sell looks pretty good and tempting. 

Matcha, strawberry, vanilla, and chocolate

You take a close look at all the options as you stare excitedly. Ghost watches as he stands closer and bumps your shoulder. 

"Chocolate is good."

He whispers into your ears as you blush slightly at the sudden closeness and glance back at him. You nod as you stare back at that specific swiss roll. It even has what you assume is chocolate whipped cream with a small cherry on top. You whisper back softly as you grab his sleeve timidly. 

Can I try the cake with you?

You know you can finish this cake yourself, but you wanted to share it with him since he suggested it in the first place. 

Ghost blinks before nodding as he pats your hand, ordering the chocolate swiss roll as you smile and happily take a seat in the corner of the cafe. You watch as he brings the plate and sets it on the table. He hands you a fork as he watches you poke through the cake and take a bite.

!!! 

Your eyes beam as your face lights up when you have a taste; the soft, spongy chocolate cake is perfect, and paired with the chocolate whipped cream? It tasted like heaven. Ghost chuckles as he watches you take another bite. 

"Told ya"

You nod as you glance back at him with a giddy smile. You were right. You say as you take a much bigger part of the cake and hand the fork to him, and he nods as he pulls his balaclava to eat the cake, making sure he watches you from the corner of his eyes as he eats it. He likes seeing you take in the sight of him shamelessly, even if it's just his jaw and lips. He liked how you always stare and trail along the faint scar he has around the chin; it's as if you’re mapping him out and memorising his features. He gives a hum of approval as he finishes the bite and hands you back the fork, urging you to take more as you shake your head. 

"It's okay, kid, I’ve tried this cake before already. Eat."

He says this as you frown slightly and nod along, then enjoy the cake again as your brows slowly relax. He smiles as he continues to watch you eat; he knows that you’re always eager and tend to be more compassionate than the other members, even if you don't show it. Gestures like how you always save a seat for him in the planes beside Soap, or how you silently wipe and clean Soap’s guns after missions, or how you always helped Gaz with reports, and you always brew a cup of coffee for Captain when he needs it, your actions doesn't go unnoticed by him. 

Do you have a sweet tooth? 

The question caught him off guard as he watch your eye. He took a few moments to ground himself before nodding. He watched the glint of amusement in your eyes as you smiled and leaned in to ask another question. 

Then what’s your favourite dessert? 

He smiles at your question as he leans in and rests his arm on the table as he stares back at you. 

"Chocolate, if that wasn’t obvious enough already."

You chuckle as you shake your head and slightly poke his muscular arm. 

Yeah, I have an idea, obviously, but you know, like, what kind? Like chocolate bars? Cocoa drinks? Chocolate brownies? You know what I mean, you list out the example as you bite on the fork. 

He chuckles as he goes on and answers back, then you shoot another question and the process repeats. They may be small and mundane questions, but moments like this make him feel human again, to remind him that he is not just a war machine in this world, that he too has cravings and such, plus it also feels like you get to know him better, and perhaps this friendship can flourish more.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= a/n: am I biased towards Gaz? yes, yes I am(and yeah the gloves are from CSGO lol), like and reposts are appreciated! Have a good day/night! <3

[aishangotome]

Silvio Ricci: Even If I Were To Lose My Entire Fortune

From A Hidden Oath: King of the BEAST (2024 Election) - Collection Event

Thank you @dark-frosted-heart for providing the SE video!

—

On the disheveled bed, the heat of our passion still lingering, I take Emma's hand as she lies limply, face down.

I fasten the bracelet, which I decided to give her at first sight, onto her wrist, and her eyes widen as if they might spill over.

Emma: Huh, this is...

Silvio: It's for you.

(As I thought, the sparkle of the jewels suits your delicate wrist.)

Emma: Thank you... I'm happy, but what's the occasion?

(Even after all this time as my woman, it's just like you to not accept gifts without a reason.)

Silvio: I was on a business trip and happened to find a rare gem that's hardly ever on the market.

Silvio: It looked like it would suit ya, so I ended up buyin' it. If ya don't want it...

Emma: Of course I want it! If that's the case, then I'll gladly accept it.

(You look so obviously happy for such a small reason...)

(You react so cutely that I end up buying anything I think might suit you.)

Emma's brow furrows suddenly.

Emma: ...But I'm in trouble. I'm running out of places to put all the gifts.

Silvio: I gave ya a room to store them before, didn't I?

Emma: That room is...

(...No way.)

I'm surprised myself, even though I'm the one who gave them to her.

Silvio: If there's no space, we can just build a new room. Or how about a whole new mansion?

Emma: Please don't!?

Silvio: Ha, it's none of your business where I spend my money.

Emma: That's true, but... then, how about you give me fewer gifts...?

I can't help but find Emma's flustered state adorable, as she anxiously runs her fingers through her bangs.

(...I guess when it comes to someone you cherish, you want to do everything you can for them.)

(You're still too serious, as always.)

(Just think of it as my way of showing affection, and learn to accept it without a fuss.)

Silvio: If ya say that, but then I stop givin' ya presents altogether, wouldn't that feel strange too?

Emma: It's true that I'd wonder what's wrong, but I wouldn't mind at all if the presents stopped completely.

Emma: Because the thing I want most is you, Silvio!

Silvio: You're so shameless...

Emma's straightforward words suddenly triggered a memory deep within my heart.

(Things, love, everything... I used to think I could get anything with money, but...)

In front of me, Emma narrows her eyes, holding the bracelet up to the moonlight with a smile overflowing with happiness.

Emma: But this bracelet is truly beautiful...

Emma: I'm so happy that you thought it would suit me. I'll treasure it.

Silvio: You shoulda just accept it graciously from the start.

Emma: Hehe, sorry. But please, really, keep it moderate from now on, okay?

Silvio: I'll keep it in mind... Geez, you're a woman who doesn't care about money at all.

(She's happy, but then she makes sure to remind me... She's quite persistent.)

(...Every time I talk to you like this, I realize painfully that the love I bought with money wasn't real love.)

Emma: Ah, but it's not that I don't have desires. There's something I want every day.

Silvio: Huh? That's news to me. What is it, tell me.

(I thought I knew everything about you... Damn, did I not look hard enough?)

As I press her for an answer, Emma mumbles something, as if holding back...

Emma: The thing I want every day is... you, Silvio, right in front of me!

Emma suddenly sits up and hugs me with a bright smile, and damn it, my heart skips a beat.

Silvio: You're always playing with my heart like that...!

Silvio: You've already said that. Give me a serious answer.

Emma: I'm completely serious. The only thing I truly, truly want from the bottom of my heart is you, Silvio.

Emma: I love you so much, Silvio, that I can't help but tell you every day.

Silvio:...Ah, is that so?

(You're laughing with such a happy face... It's made me soft.)

(... Maybe you really would love me even if I had nothing.)

(Well, I'd love you even if you had nothing to your name.)

(You're the only one who makes me feel this way, not easily accepting gifts.)

Blaming the hot emotions that filled my chest, I grabbed Emma's chin and stole a kiss.

I had only meant to peck her lightly, but once I touched her, the overflowing feelings made it hard to let go.

Emma: Mmm, Silvio...?

Silvio: Not yet. I'll give ya what ya want most.

Emma's eyes were wet with heat, as if she were enduring the remnants of our passion, but I changed the angle and savored her mouth.

Each time she grasped my shirt longingly, the sound of the bracelet chiming pleasantly echoed in my ears.

Emma: W-wait a minute. What's gotten into you all of a sudden...?

Silvio: Ah... In other words, one more, no, as many as you want.

Silvio: I'll make a room big enough for as many gifts as I want to give ya. Look forward to it.

Emma: You're not listening to anything I'm saying!?

Silvio: Shut up! Just give up already.

(This is my way of loving. Even if you tell me to stop, it's not a feeling I can easily suppress.)

(Even if I were to lose my entire fortune in the future, I would still love you.)

While silencing her with a kiss, I embraced my beloved fiancée with the resolve that had lit up in my chest.

FIN

[l0vegl0wsinthedark]

Okay i have to write this down. I have had a very specific fic idea sitting in my pumpkin of a head, rent free.

Draco gets a job - absolutely nothing important or fancy - as some kind of paperwork/paper pushing clerk at the Ministry right after his trial (some sort of reformation program for acquitted death eaters). Fast forward 8 or 9 years and draco still has the same job except he's kind of irreplaceable now because nobody can keep track of all the bajillion bullshit documents that get processed every fucking day - except draco. He sits in an office only slightly larger than a toilet cubicle and has stacks of parchment floor to ceiling ALL AROUND him and it's a bit dizzying honestly, but draco? You ask him for a specific document from december of 1999 and he'll find it in under ten seconds flat.

All this is not even the best part. The best part (in my head) is that draco is the biggest most terrifying GROUCH. Glasses perched on the tip of his nose, hair always rumpled (we know why but we get there later), draco sits at his tiny overflowing desk and barks and snaps at all the people who nervously stop by because they need their paperwork done and the Ministry has literally not bothered to hire anyone else. He doesn't report to anybody, he has no direct boss, they never sorted that shit out. It's something of a rite of passage for new ministry employees to get past draco. He's bony and pale and resembles an infuriated bowtruckle at any given point in the day. He sits there quill in hand, desk in impeccable order and just scolds every single person he meets.

"These are all in the wrong order," he snarls, shoving a sheaf of parchment at a young woman, somebody's new secretary. "Go rearrange them and maybe then I'll stamp and process them."

"Can you not see I'm already talking to somebody here?! Don't stick your head into my office when I'm already occupied. Get out and wait your turn."

"Shut the bloody door, can't you read the sign on it?!"

Occasionally though? He's a gem: "All right, okay, you need a letter from a parent or guardian since you're not of age yet. Didn't they tell you that when you applied for the summer internship? All right, why don't you dart through the Floos downstairs and fetch a letter from home? I'll be here until 5:30. Dry your eyes now, go on. I'll wait."

The whole ministry is terrified of draco and his temper and he speaks to nobody outside of work and nobody knows where he lives or whom he goes home to.

You know whom he goes home to, though, right? 👨🏿‍❤️‍👨🏼

[mochiwrites]

For the ask game/prompt, mayhaps #1 with Scarian? Could be in canon, one of your AUs, or any other AU you think of lol, no preference ☺️

01. Touch starved/cuddle curse (put that guy in a situation!)

reblogs do more than likes!

"How in the world have you managed this, Scar?!" Grian's indignant voice exclaims, echoing in the small space of Scar's train car. The avian looks down at the man currently pouting at him, a sheepish expression on his face.

"I-I don't know! Joel just gave me this potion thingy and -- and said it would be good for bonding with cOW!" As he speaks, he makes a grabbing motion for Grian, his pout morphing into a pleading look.

Grian pointedly takes a step back from Scar's outreaching arms, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Trusting Joel was your first mistake," he mumbles, sucking in a breath.

"He's a trustworthy fellow!" Scar retorts, "Besides, I don't see what's so bad about this arrangement... all I want to do is cuddle with you."

"That's exactly the problem, Scar!" The feathers of Grian's wings fluff up as he stares at his husband with a firm look. "I have building I have to do! Shops to set up, permits to not do! I also promised Gem I'd help her out with something in a few hours. I can't just stay here with you all day."

Scar's pleading expression only becomes stronger, his green eyes looking shiny as he stares up at Grian from where he sits on his head. "Please, lovebird? Just for a little bit?" He makes another grabbing motion for Grian, who finds his resolve rapidly crumbling the longer he looks at Scar.

"Nuh uh mister, I know exactly how this sort of thing goes. We both know it won't just be 'for a little bit,'" he answers. Grian's making any desperate attempts at keeping his denial firm.

But... he could just tell Gem he'd be around tomorrow. And it's not like the Permit Office is really ever open. They're only sometimes there to help anyway. And he still hasn't come up with any ideas for his mushroom stem shop.

"I promise this time I'll stick to it! Only a few hours, I swear on my hat!" Scar exclaims, eagerly nodding.

"Where have I heard that one before," Grian mumbles under his breath, fondness written into each and every word. He lets out a little sigh, "Alright, alright, fine. But only for a few hours! Let's hope this... cuddle affliction has run its course by then."

He takes a step toward Scar, and the moment he's close enough, a hand jumps out to grab hold of his wrist. Grian yelps as he's pulled right into Scar's lap, arms slinging around his waist. He steadies himself by gripping Scar's shoulders, finding the love of his life grinning at him.

"You should know I always want to cuddle with you." Scar shoots him a cheeky little wink, making Grian roll his eyes, a small smile upon his lips. "You just fit in my arms so perfectly!"

"Maybe that's just because you're a giant," Grian huffs, getting settled in Scar's hold. He moves to lay his head on Scar's shoulder, tucking it within the crook of his neck. "You're like one big teddy bear."

Scar squeezes him lightly, one of his hands moving to rest against the small of his back, right in between his feathers. The contact leaves Grian melting right into him with a content noise. "Am I a cute teddy bear?"

Grian snorts at him.

"It's the most important question I've ever asked you next to proposing, Grian!" Scar gasps in return, a serious look in his eyes. His green eyes sparkle with mirth, and pressed against him like this, Grian can feel the way his chest rumbles with hidden laughter. "I have to know if I'm a cute teddy bear!"

"Yes Scar," Grian sighs fondly, pulling back to hold the man's face in his hands, "you're a very cute teddy bear." He accentuates his response with a kiss to Scar's nose, "Although Jellie is cuter."

Scar makes some kind of ecstatic noise, pulling Grian down into bed as he rolls onto his side. Grian squawks at the sudden action, just narrowly avoiding his wings getting squished. "But of course! No one is cuter than Jellie. You come in a close second place though."

If it were anyone but Jellie, Grian would have complained.

Instead, he snuggles in close to Scar, wrapping a wing around him as they fall into a comfortable silence. Scar's arms are secure around him, and Grian thinks he'd be fine with laying here all day, wrapped in his husband's arms.

"Remember Scar, only for a few hours."

"Right, right! Only a few hours. Or until this cuddle curse goes away!"

(They go well over 'a few hours' together. Grian's communicator pings a few times, but it sounds almost silent over the pair's easy breaths as they sleep.)

[chainsawmascara]

Figuring out where every companion fits in my Suddenly A Thing art school au doodle world is. Going to be interesting.

God's favorite princess who started it all is in general fine arts. She loves charcoal, painting feels like a necessary evil but it's secretly what she's always wanted to do.

Lae'zel is clearly in metalworking/sculpture.

Astarion is in textiles, specifically embroidering and fashion design/history. He has an entire brand built in his head. He works at an upscale fashion store part time. He judges EVERYONE.

Wyll???? Wyll's studying art history and debating going into curation. He's a trust fund kid and his father is deeply disappointed THIS is what he's doing with his college fund. He spends free time in the dark room. Darkroom photography has no place in the world these days, but he loves the classics and waxes poetic about 35mm film and its versatility - he does some oil painting over certain photos for flourish. It's phenomenal. He doesn't think it's that great. Everyone disagrees.

Gale is. Gale is the english major from the sister university who decided a double major is a good idea (it isn't, he is suffering) and hurled himself into abstract/surrealism. (It works very well in his favor when tara steps in his paint and walks on the canvas. He had a three hour anxiety attack and decided he did it on PURPOSE.

(Part of me wants to slam him into dark room photography and i will not elaborate. Maybe he sneaks in to hang out with wyll. He cannot be good at everything but he NEEDS TO BE GOOD AT EVERYTHING. He's a recurring subject of wyll's work.)

Where the FUCK do i put karlach. She's on a roller derby team outside of school. But what does she DO. She's in there somewhere but WHAT DEPARTMENT.

Dammon shares classes with Lae'zel bc that's The Most Obvious Thing. He's a natural.

Isobel? Pottery. Aylin doesn't go here. She's just The Girlfriend also on the roller derby team and hangs around.

Rolan is obviously into impressionism. He's the manet of the school, trying every artist's style in a desperate attempt to find his own despite cal and lia both knowing he HAS his own style and it's GORGEOUS but he just can't see it himself.

Alfira is also in the textile department. Astarion hates everything she makes. She plays music at local clubs on the weekends. Lakrissa is her bartender girlfriend who studies sequential art.

I need to keep this going, I'm on to something here.

But where the FUCK do i put KARLACH.

Edit: 9 fingers is the drug dealer. I went to art school, i promise you there are so many gatherings based solely around that, she'd be there constantly. Jaheira and Halsin are figure study models. Jaheira probably has her hand somewhere else in the school, she'd definitely have something to do with installation pieces, I'll get there let me cook on that one. Minsc is. Fuck. I need to figure that out. We're GOING SOMEWHERE HERE, WE'RE MAKING THIS HAPPEN.

Someone is in the jewelry department it's someone it's SOMEONE maybe lae'zel dips into it bc metal casting NO IT'S MINTHARA. MINTHARA. YES. I WILL JUSTIFY THIS WHEN IT'S NOT 2AM BUT TRUST ME IT'S MINTHARA. Intricate wire wrapping with gem stones she gets from 9 fingers, she has 5000 tools for it and no one realizes how violent whitesmithing tools are but I've BEEN THERE TRUST ME and the wire wrapping gives big spiderweb vibes, it's perfect, i love it, yes, she's in cahoots with astarion on a future design house and the bickering is CONSTANT.

[nocoastposts]

Happy Friday! This rec list is lengthy, kinky, and explicit. I'll have an additional list up soon, but this one is dedicated to some excellent E-rated gems.

Please remember to mind the tags - especially for these recs! - and kindly skip anything that doesn't suit you.

If you enjoy these, make sure to leave kudos and check out the authors additional works. Fic links and summaries below the cut.

in the dead of night | @littlemisskittentoes | E | 3.8k

“Hm, am I still dreaming, or is there a very pretty boy playing with me under the covers?” Alex’s voice is gruff. Its edges are coated in lingering sleep, and the drowsy-slow pull of the words slows them to a deeper accent than he usually lets slip through. The syrupy drawl skitters the length of Henry’s spine.

or, Henry knows he can always rely on Alex to tire him out when sleep is far off.

If We're Caught in a Wave (I Will Carry You Over) | @sparklepocalypse | E | 5.9k

There it is, up ahead – the small island just offshore, with Alex’s favorite broad, flat stone outcropping, perfect for sunning himself in seclusion. He splashes into the shallows and dives in when the water’s up to his knees, and it’s a matter of maybe a minute’s swim to reach the island. Alex finds his footing among the sand and pebbles, pulls himself upright, and shakes the water out of his hair, then pushes it back from his face. He can practically hear the outcropping calling to him -- you know, if inanimate rock could speak.

Alex stretches, his mid-back satisfyingly popping, and then skirts his way between some larger rocks until his sunning rock is in view. Except – there’s someone already on the outcropping, their short blond hair shimmering in the sunshine, the upper slant of their shoulders visible from where Alex is standing.

(Movie or Bookverse AU; Alex rents a remote beach house and Henry is a cecaelia.)

What I Need Tonight | @sparklepocalypse (again, always, etc.) | E | 3.5k

It’s two in the morning on a Tuesday when the clatter of something hitting the bathroom floor startles Henry awake. At first, his groggy mind assumes it’s Alex – but then Alex snuffles in his sleep behind him and tightens his arms around Henry’s waist.

There’s another clatter, and then a shuffling noise, and Henry’s eyes widen. He reaches back and grabs Alex’s thigh, shaking him.

(A temporal folding M/M/M AU that takes place post-canon but pre-bonus chapter.)

It's Called Tact, Fuck-Rag! | largepeachicedtea | E | 12.8k

Texas had been an odd choice, some might say. Henry thinks it's perfect. College is a time to go crazy, after all. A Scream AU

when he walks in (i am loved) | @kill8a | E | 10.3k

Henry has chores. They’re chores he’s allocated to himself, ones he loves to do in his free time, when he’s home alone. But he can’t keep thinking about Alex, what he did to him this morning, and it proves to be a distraction.

or, henry gets well fucked and well loved.

[ My final rec is for the four-part series please, please have me by @everwitch-magiks; the total word count is 29.7k. I really love the summaries for each installment, so I've included 'em all.]

Hope and Glory | E | 3.5k

Any moment now, that door will open again and another man will enter, another stranger will bare himself and quietly slot himself into the hole in the wooden panel. And Henry will swallow him down, willingly, greedily. He will use his mouth and his tongue and both of his hands, and he will lose himself in every little sound, every low groan and trembling whimper, every sharp intake of breath. He will bring the stranger to the brink and then over it, will smile faintly as feels the man pulsing in between his hands, will brush a chaste kiss against the tip before he lets go.

Henry joins an exclusive, members only sex club and lives out an impossible fantasy. Along the way, he forms a connection with an enigmatic lover.

Everything I Never Thought I'd Ever Find | E | 5.3k

The man is rubbing his length alongside Alex's as promised, his breathing heavy as Alex engages him in a series of wild, open-mouthed kisses, all teeth and tongue, give and take. Alex is shaking with want as he struggles to keep his arms still, to keep kissing, to keep himself from losing control entirely, to be good. God, he wants to be good.

Alex had never dared to hope that his sexual escapades with an irresistible stranger could turn into so much more.

That Look In Your Eyes | E | 4.7k

They’re trying something new. It’s a bit of an indulgence on Henry’s part. Earlier that night, he had walked into the now familiar room to find Alex as utterly irresistible as always: naked and blindfolded and so impossibly willing, so wonderfully eager. In that exact moment, Henry had decided that it was time for something a little bit different.

One brief but intriguing conversation later, Henry had been very pleased to pull the silk scarf from his own neck. Clearly, they'd just found a better use for it.

When The Time Is Right | E | 16.1k

“Maybe I could challenge you more,” Henry suggests, his eyes carefully trained on Alex. “And hold you accountable for longer. How does that sound?” “That sounds fucking amazing,” Alex tells him, the words coming out in a rush. “Yes. That. Please.” “Alright, then.” Henry offers him a sly grin. “Alex, love. You just gave me a wonderful idea.” It’s really something, how quickly Alex’s heartbeat picks up. “Oh? Do tell.” Henry’s grin widens. He looks alarmingly pleased with himself. “How would you feel about a staycation?”

When Alex asks Henry for something a little more intense in the bedroom, they end up taking more than just their sex life to the next level.

I've got another post in the works with some longer fics that are a mixture of all types of themes, ratings, and so on.

Feel free to request fic recs anytime!

XOXO,

Amy | NoCoastPosts

[powdermelonkeg]

Echoes of Wisdom Trailer Analysis: Part 1

I'll tell you what, a new Zelda game, especially one this year, was NOT what I was expecting. I was hoping for a teaser a la "the sequel to BotW is now in development," but to have a full on main-series game come out? That caught me completely off guard.

But I've got my bearings. And I like what I see. So let's break down what we DID see, shall we?

Our opening shot has Link in some ruins, looking over at what appears to be Soldiers (as in the enemy, a lesser version of Darknuts), which are a staple for Fallen Timeline games.

However, they usually aren't this color, restricted to red, blue, and green. And they usually have swords or tridents, not axes.

The axes are a new development, as are the black armor and white capes. Maybe they've taken on the red -> blue -> green -> black -> silver difficulty pattern that BotW and TotK had?

Moving on.

Link here has a dark blue cape with teal geometric patterns on the back. Tempting as it is to connect this to the Zonai with the recent game-

-I'm going to abstain for now, because Zelda games like their teal geometry.

Looking around, the ruins Link finds himself in are unique.

We have eye patterns on the walls and double helixes framing the door. We haven't seen any pattern like this before, to my knowledge.

Link rushes in, sword drawn. The floor is plain square patterns on cracked tile.

We get our first glimpse of the Hylian Shield

As well as a clear shot of his sword. Oddly enough, it's not the Master Sword, or anything like it—it looks too plain to be something final, like the Four Sword or Phantom Sword:

And yet, it still very distinctly matches Link's current aesthetic, with the teal geometry.

Honestly, it looks more akin to a beginning sword that needs to change, like the Goddess Sword of Skyward Sword:

It's basic, it's easy to look at, but it's distinct and memorable.

Immedaitely after the cinematic run, the camera snaps to an overhead view, in which Link attacks. So there's at least a little gameplay as Link.

We see Princess Zelda in her crystal prison. Nothing unusual so far, but she definitely has a new look to her, even if her dress is distinctly Toon/Oracles/AlttP style remade.

Then we pan down to Ganon. Fallen Timeline's beast Gan, as we're used to seeing him. So far, he seems to look the most like his ALBW iteration, with the spiked cuffs around his wrists.

Link enters the scene. Purple mist is there for ambiance.

The pattern on the ground feels...ornamental. It doesn't stick out much or have enough detail on it to be the usual big-bad-evil-ritual.

Link throws his cape away dramatically.

Again, we get a camera-snapped view in which Link's attacks seem very much in the player's control.

And blocking Link off from escape, we have a magical barrier, though this one is emitting particles.

It's almost like Ganon's torn the ground open for this.

Defeated, ready for phase two, Ganon dissipates into purple sparks, only to reappear and start his tennis volley.

And here's where we get our proper view of him head-on.

ALBW's Ganon is a bit easy to miss in-game, because Yuga takes him over moments after he arrives. But he looks like this:

This is not our Gan's design.

He has the bracers, yes, but his forehead gem isn't spiked, his eyes are red, not white, his armor is gold with red edges and has chest plates that look a lot like really old art of ALttP Gan:

But most interestingly, his necklace is different.

In every version of Ganon that looks like this, he's either had a skull at his neck

Or a gem

But our Gan has something new. Something that, given the eyes in the corridor, feels deliberate:

There's a menace in this branch of Hyrule's history that's known for three things: a horned eye, purple magic, and possession.

And I'm out of images. Part 2 here!

[luveline]

Hi Jade! First of all thank you for bringing back the zombie au, it is my absolute fave! Second, if you are taking requests for it currently, maybe r (with Robin maybe?) goes and finds a gift for Steve just to make him smile (which may or may not make him break into tears with how vulnerable and emotional he's been with all the stuff he's been through?) Thank you for all your lovely writing!

thank you anon! fem!reader, 8k —You, Steve and Robin make a risky trip for non-essentials to improve your quality of life at the camp. Steve's feeling stressed, you try to make it better, and Robin finds a cat in the display section of the mattress store. 

tw for zombie apocalypse typical implied violence and gore, food insecurity, injury

"We'll call it something really cool," Robin says, "like Y/N and Robin's ultimate quest for cleanliness." 

Robin is a little dirty today. She's scraped her hair back into a tiny ponytail, and it flicks out at the back of her head like a feather duster. You think it's adorable, and you lean around her shoulders to try and touch it. Steve pulls you back bodily. 

"Stop touching her," he says. 

"Just her hair," you say. 

"No, because you know how ansty she is, it's like poking a sleeping dragon." 

"Shut up! Shut up, loser, I haven't been antsy at all, I'm planning a girl's trip as we speak." 

You laugh and fall back into Steve's arms, the kind of laugh that makes your chest feel tight and your eyes scrunch closed. A girl's trip is definitely one way to put it. 

"I'm just saying," Steve says, not just saying at all, "that you're dangerous right now. Next time I'll let her touch your hair and you can bite her hand off." 

"She can touch my hair. I don't know if you've noticed, Harrington, but that right there is my very best friend."

And okay, it's not true, Steve and Robin have the strongest friendship you've ever seen, but there is a truth behind it —you and Robin get along well. It would be difficult not to love her, she's a gem, and she cares about the person you care about most in the world at the same level (though in a different calibre). 

You worm out of Steve's arms to give her a quick hug. Steve steals you away again and you laugh as you go, flopping your weight onto him and almost knocking him flat onto his back. 

You, Robin and Steve are sitting around the campfire in the centre of camp. It's rather big and blissfully hot, the sky a velvet black that hides the smoke. Children sit with droopy eyes to the left, some with parents and most without, though the community is full of good people with great hearts who've swooped in to help look after them. Already, an older woman named Matildhe seems to have gathered a brood of six children, all young, and all wanting cuddles. To the right, Jeremy Livingstone and Joyce Byers plan the unplannable, a map of Michigan at their feet held down by stones. Jonathan sits by his mother's legs with a baby in his lap, her sleeping face pressed to his chest. He taps her back absent-mindedly. "What about here?" he asks, drawing a circle with his finger. Will, his younger brother, moves the flashlight beam to follow his direction. 

Despite the fire, the wind bites at your backs, a nippy chill. Steve has solved this by becoming your windbreaker, or so he claims. 

"She loves me," you murmur. 

"I love her," Robin agrees. 

"That's why you can't come on our girl's trip," you say. 

"Girls," Steve says, measured, "I'm unsure, but I'm starting to think that you think you're going somewhere without me." 

"No, we know you'll crash the party. But we're going to pretend you aren't there," Robin says. 

Her chipper attitude makes you laugh for the millionth time tonight. Steve laughs in tandem behind you, his breath fanning warmly over the shell of your ear. 

It smells like woodsmoke and pine needles meshed together here, two smells that alone are nice but together give you a headache. You wrinkle your nose and sit up properly, worried about squashing Steve or hurting his bad knee. "The smell is so strong out here," you say. 

"Shit, this guy bothering you?" Steve asks, pointing his thumb at the fire. 

"Kick his ass, Steve," Robin says. 

"Are you losers drunk?" Dustin asks. 

You twist on your butt to face him, Steve's favourite sixteen year old standing in the dark wearing two coats and three scarfs. 

"Are you cold?" Steve asks. "Come and sit with us." 

"We aren't drunk, just happy," you say, gesturing for him to do as Steve said. 

Dustin sits by the fire with you, groaning. "What is there to be happy about?" 

You bite your top lip. Dustin is so young, and he's lost a lot. More than he ever should've had to lose, twice, his sense of normalcy destroyed. You don't blame him for being depressed over what is possibly the most traumatic thing he will ever have to experience. You don't want to offer him empty platitudes or tell him how to feel, and Steve doesn't want to either, but he can't watch him mope. He loves him too much. 

"Dusty," he teases, "don't be so down. Haven't you seen this glorious and ridiculously enormous bonfire we have going on?" 

"I see it," Dustin says from behind gritted teeth. 

"Hey, do you want to sleep in our tent tonight?" Steve asks, a tad more seriously. "It's warmer with more people, and it's not as crowded as you think it'll be." 

"No, thanks." 

"You could drag your tent closer," you say, quieter, trying not to smother him or embarrass him with parenting he never asked for. 

"I don't like being near the boundary. You guys might be okay with ending up as geek chow but the rest of us have common sense." 

"Well, we didn't really have a choice there," Robin says. 

Which is true. The kids all get to sleep in tents close to the fire, and the adults are a row behind. You guys aged out of the kids category a long time ago, so you're the ones who'll be eaten first, but you're also the ones who'll hear the can alarms when they ring on the tripwires first. 

Steve sleeps with his baseball bat anyhow. 

You disentangle yourself from Steve's grips and meet his eyes. He doesn't need you to tell him, but you give him a look that hopefully says, Maybe you should talk to him. Eyebrows raised gently, lips pursed. 

Steve sighs like he's preparing himself and shuffles around you. He doesn't begrudge Dustin needing cheering up, you know that. He probably just wishes he could offer Dustin more than, "We have food and water and a place to pee." 

Robin crawls right to your side and sets back on her haunches. "Here's what I think we should do." 

"Wait, you don't wanna wait for Steve to explain?" 

"Nope, he'll say no. Me and you have to find the best way to sell it so we can actually go."

"You aren't kidding about the girl's trip?" 

"Nope. Look, the situation is dire. We know where the mall is, we've been there tons of times. The whole group can't go and we don't trust most people to keep us alive anyways, so me, you and Steve will go. We'll sleep there or something too, so there's no pressure on us to rush back and stress out Steve." 

"Wouldn't it be safer to hurry back?" you ask. 

Robin hums. "Maybe. Uh, if we travel at night like I've been thinking about doing I don't think we could hurry back." 

"At night?" 

"We're basically nocturnal at this point." You dip your head toward her mildly. She drops the slight facade she'd had, "I would feel better. If we went at night." 

The College, the community you and your group had inhabited until recently, was attacked and destroyed by raiders. They were likely drawn by the black smoke of the small bonfire in the quad of the campus, lit to celebrate a quasi-thanksgiving. It wasn't supposed to end up the way it had. 

Robin got attacked. Steve was there to help her get away uninjured, earning himself a black eye. She can't sleep if she's by herself anymore. You hate yourself for not being there to protect them. 

She's afraid of being attacked by people rather than geeks now. Travelling at night increases the likelihood of dying via geek (you can't see them, they can smell you), but it vastly decreases the chance of meeting other people. It makes sense that a night time excursion is her preference. 

You just don't know how you feel about it, and you have no clue how you might convince Steve to go along with it.  

"So you want us to hike to the mall at night. Is it on the map? Where even is it?" 

"I don't remember the name, Steve'll know it 'cos we've been there, but what matters is that I know for a fact there's a fancy soap store. I need soap, Y/N. I can't take this anymore. And if I don't brush my teeth soon I'm going to scream, my finger can only do so much." 

Occasionally three of you take a pea sized dollop of paste and rub it over your teeth in an effort to feel less disgusting, the same way that you wash with a rag and cold water behind the treeline, and dunk your clothes in the river without detergent. Water is a good cleaner, but eventually there's a funk in the clothes that can't be washed out without soap, or Robin's current issue: oily hair.

Without soap and toothbrushes, you feel about as disgusting as a person can feel. If you don't make this trip soon, you'll be in the exact same boat as Robin, one bad stain away from screaming. 

"And the fancy soap shop definitely has soap?" 

"Definitely. And there's a department store with blankets, too. We could really improve the quality of our miserable lives." 

"You don't have to convince me," you say, though it might not hurt in actuality. You're hesitant to leave the camp, but if Robin's leaving she can't go without Steve (who would never let her go alone), or you, because you refuse to be separated from Steve (or her, honestly). "It's Grim Fandango who needs greasing." Grim being Steve. 

Steve has managed to wrap an arm around Dustin. You're half-expecting Dustin to be wriggling under his touch, desperate for an escape, a teenage boy allergic to both sincerity and affection, but Dustin's dissolved like jello powder in boiling water, totally slouched into Steve's side. Steve's hand runs the younger boy's upper arm briskly.

"It'll be okay, dude, I promise. We've come this far," Steve says. 

"I'm just tired," Dustin says quietly. 

"Maybe we should sell it, as uh, an enrichment trip," you suggest to Robin. "We can get stuff for the kids, some board games or something." They need an escape. 

"I miss my books," Robin says. 

"Holy shit, me too. Steve says you can tell the plot of every Agatha Christie novel from memory, is that true?" you ask. 

"Only the good ones. Can I lie down on you?" 

You let Robin lie down with her head on your thigh. It can't be comfortable but maybe it's better than the floor, or maybe it's just nice to be close to someone. You like having Robin with you. You'd been so apprehensive of her when you met, not because she was Steve's best friend —though that did worry you to some extent— but because you had trust issues to the neck and she was the first person beside Steve to be nice to you without motivation. In this world, that doesn't check out. 

"What ones do you know?" 

"Murder on the Orient Express?" she offers. 

"Okay. Set the scene, Buckley." 

Steve returns just after the detective finds out that Ratchet has been murdered. "I love this part," he says. 

"Then let me tell it." 

Robin spins for a while, but you peel away from the fire before you're too tired to stand and retreat to your makeshift tent. It's a tarp held up by two sticks and a blanket on the floor, but it works to keep away the rain and most bugs. There's not quite enough room for you three, but there's also literally no other option, and none of you mind. You squeeze in like tinned sardines, sleeping in your coats and shoes. 

In the morning, you and Robin attempt to sell your idea to Steve over lukewarm oxtail soup. You and Steve share. Robin had to tip half into a bowl for someone else. The rationing is going okay. 

You could've ended up with a can of garden peas, or chopped tomatoes.

"It's actually better if it's only us, you see, because we can sneak around and it'll be much quieter. And they don't need us here right now, everything's settled. And me and Y/N want to so we should." 

Steve wraps your hand around the can of soup so you don't touch the hot bottom. He doesn't look like he's even remotely listening to Robin, his eyes on your face and his hands not far behind. He neatens you up, so to speak, scratching a little dirt speck from your cheek and folding the rolled collar of your shirt. "This," he says finally, his hand curling behind your neck, "sounds like a very bad idea." 

You shudder happily as he starts to scratch your neck down to your shoulders. "Steve, what's bad about it? We'll be like the Three Musketeers, travelling in darkness, a mission for the people." 

"Did you ever read that book?" Steve asks, his hand dropping to your shoulder, where it stays for a reverent second. You look gross and he still wants to squeeze you. 

"No," you admit, lips on the sharp edge of your soup. You take a careful sip. 

"We get there quickly, spend a night on the mattresses at the department store, and… Hey, why don't we go live in the mall?" Robin asks. 

The idea of a real mattress is seductive, but not that much. 

"Because we don't want to paint a huge target on our backs?" you ask. 

"I'm kidding." Robin peers down at her soup unhappily. "I really hate oxtail." 

Steve noticeably flickers. He meets your eyes, and you think he's speaking to you in his head. Fucking hell, I can't believe what I'm about to agree to. 

"If you can convince Mrs. Byers to delegate us an actual weapon, then okay, fine, we can go to the mall." He stretches out his mostly healed knee and rubs it with both hands. "Fuck. A knife. Actually, I want each of us to have a weapon. So if you can somehow magic that into being, we can go." 

"I don't see why we even had to ask permission," Robin jokes, "like it's the sixties or something." She springs up to her feet, forces her oxtail soup into the hands of one of the preteens by the fire, and beelines for the small crowd of kids surrounding one much taller Joyce. 

"You'd still come with us even if you didn't want to," you say. 

"Yeah, obviously. Robin's right, this isn't the sixties. That being said, if it was a worse plan, I'd tie you to a tree." 

"I could be into that," you tease, pleased when he scoffs through a laugh. His elbow drives into your side. "Stop, fiend." 

"No, fiend. Take the force of my elbow." He nudges you. 

You elbow back. He elbows harder. You potentially give him a bruise and feel extremely bad when he "Oofs," aloud. 

"Sorry," you say, climbing up on your knees to put your arms on his shoulders. "Sorry, sorry, sorry." 

He shoves you away from him and you're evil, you're selfish, you want him to dote. You fall flat on your back in the dirt and grass, covering your smile with the crook of your elbow so he doesn't immediately know you're fine. 

"Shit," he cusses, kneeling between your legs, moving to hover over you. "I didn't mean to knock you down…" He sees your smile. "You lying conniving trickster." 

You smile harder, lips pressed together and your chest light as a feather for the first time in days, until suddenly he's squished on top of you and pressing down. "Ow," you fake, wriggling away from him. "I think there's a twig in my brain." 

He wriggles with you. "You suck, you made me think I hurt you." 

"Don't be a wuss, I get hurt all the time, how do you even know I'm not hurt?" 

He sighs all quiet and lifts your head off of the grass. "I can't see through your hair," he says, "did it actually hurt?" 

You take his face into your hands. Your fingers are very cold, but he doesn't flinch. 

"I'm messing with you, H." 

"When did that nickname catch on?" 

You rub his cheeks with your thumbs. Fingers behind his ears, you smooth over his short scratchy stubble affectionately. Quick, you lift your chin and touch your lips to his. It's hardly a kiss. 

He leans down slowly and makes it a better one. 

"Stop," Robin says, kicking you in the ribs. She isn't cruel about it, more of a toe touch. 

"Oh, hi, that was a quick rejection," you say, frowning. 

Robin beams. "Actually, we've been approved. One knife apiece and a request for children's clothes. Get packing!" 

She whizzes off in another direction, seemingly to pack and gather the allocated weaponry. 

Steve drops his chin back down to you. 

"Does she have secret things we don't know about?" he asks. 

You scratch his scalp, "Mm… I'm not supposed to tell you." 

He sits up. You frown.

"She really has a secret stash?"

"No, Steve," you laugh. "No, of course she doesn't. Where would she hide them?" 

Steve yanks you up by the arm playfully. You pretend to fight him, but it's no use. You'll do anything he wants you to. 

—

Steve didn't necessarily think that a hike through the outskirts of an infested city would be easy, but he also hadn't realised it would be this boring. Especially a trip he's already made in the past. Boring and kind of hard. 

It's not because you aren't capable —you might've taken a hit when The College collapsed, but you've mostly recovered, and your endurance is good. You have the best survival skills you've ever had, and Robin is similarly ready for whatever it is that might get thrown at you. Too bad preparation doesn't make you a ninja. 

He isn't at his peak and he was no man of steel beforehand, and although he was good enough to keep you both alive, he's not sure if it's still true. Plus, he wasn't expecting to feel so moody. 

You're marching on like a true warrior next to him, your hand around his wrist and swinging gently, your eyes on the ground. Steve's flashlight carves a weak path through the dusk. Soon, it'll be completely dark, and that's when he imagines his worrying will reach a fever pitch. 

For now, he tries to be chill. 

"Is my hand not good enough for you?" he asks. 

"I figure you can pull away from me quicker if you need to if we're not, like, sewed together." 

"You have weird hands," Robin interjects. "They're big. I wouldn’t hold them either.” 

"That's why they're nice hands, Robin," you say. "Well, maybe they're just nice because I love him."

"I love him. Mostly. He still has weird hands," she says. 

"You don't get it," you say. 

You wrap your arms around his bicep and hug it quickly before backing away again. He thinks you kiss his coat, but he really can't tell. 

"I don't think I want to get it," Robin says.

You're quieter when you ask, "Is that really true? You don't want to be in love?" 

In the dark, and at night, it's quiet. It's nearly always quiet everywhere you go nowadays, but it feels immense this far from the camp. Steve is on edge. Too distracted for heart to hearts. But he wants to know the answer too, so he stays nice and quiet. 

"I love that you're in love," Robin says lightly. "And I love you both. But I've seen you guys when you think you're going to lose each other, and surviving is hard enough without… that." 

You let your hand slide down to his hand, your palm flat to the top, not holding it but holding him. 

Steve clears his throat. "It's worth losing my mind every time she decides to wander off because of the peace she gives me when we're together." 

"The peace?" Robin asks. She sounds like she wants to be incredulous but his sincerity has tripped her up. 

"I'm with her and…" He can see the side of your face in the flashlight. You're smiling shyly, your gaze on the grass beneath your shoes. Footsteps rustle in the gap of his words. "I don't want to be anywhere else as long as she's there." 

"It sounds like a toothache," Robin says. 

"You know, I used to get bad toothaches all the time before we found you, and Steve made me a teeth guard out of a leather armchair with a pen knife and a needle and thread." 

"Did you just make that up? Trying to convince me about the magic of love?" Robin asks. 

"No, he really made it for me, I used to keep it in my nightstand," you say. He can hear your smile.

He made it because watching you cry from toothache left him feeling powerless. A guy who'd never even held a needle and thread before bent over his lap with a flashlight in the hours while you slept until his eyes burned because watching you sniffle made him feel sick. He can't describe the ache of it, loving you but not having kissed you, or even really told you, his girl so stressed at night your jaw had locked tight and you were reduced to whimpers each morning. Having to watch you pretend it wasn't happening until you couldn't, until you broke down crying with your hand wrapped around his wrist like it is now. Sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Steve, I just– I want– I don't know– I can't– 

He was useless. He was stupid. He could barely bring himself to rub your back because he thought another touch might knock you over. 

Calm down, honey, he'd murmured. Just calm down.

He never could've imagined seeing you cry like that before he did. You couldn't move. You explained it like a headache when words became feasible again, which, Steve's had headaches; concussive migraines that were white hot and everywhere. So he could imagine it even if he'd never felt it, and there wasn't a single thing he could do about it. Willing to try anything, he'd even wondered if he could pull your tooth out himself. Mouth surgery is prone to infection, and he couldn't face levelling that amount of pain onto you personally. So rather than fix the tooth, he'd have to fix the stress. He couldn't fix the stress, so he looked for anything at all to ease the pain. Ibuprofen, codeine, even a course of antibiotics. And then, finally, the leather mouth guard. Leather stacked and sewed with sanitised, loving hands. 

"It's weird what that kind of love can bring out of you," Steve says quietly, matching the surroundings. "I did a great job. I'm a seamstress." 

Robin pretends to throw up generously and noisily. Steve shushes her. You, in a very good mood with no signs of calming down, laugh behind your hand. 

"I can make you another one," he offers. He hadn't thought about it yet, but of course you don't have it anymore. Anything in your nightstand is lost forever. 

"You might need to. I'll be a stressed mess all over again if we don't find some socks, I can feel my ankle bone piercing the back of my shoes," you say. No socks either. 

Robin's flashlight turns quickly to the right. You and Steve flinch at the same time to guard the other, peering in the exposed direction. There aren't many trees around here, so all to be seen is yellow-green grass and empty air. 

"Sorry, I got the heebies," Robin says. "Maybe it was your disgusting declarations of love." 

"Hardy-har. Where the fuck do you think we are right now?" Steve asks. 

"Wait, you don't know?" you ask. 

"You have the map," he says back. 

"Oh, right. But how do we navigate in the dark? We don't have a compass." 

"I have the compass!" Robin announces. 

"From where?" you ask. 

"How did you think we'd get there in the dark, angel?" Steve asks you genuinely. 

He doesn't have time to wonder if it's okay to call you angel. He's never done it before, but it felt right in the moment. You're kind of like an angel, protective and sweet and a symbol for goodness. 

"I thought because you guys already knew where it was– we– we set off while it was still light! I assumed we'd just walk straight." 

Steve and Robin laugh at you, but not without love. 

You pretend to sulk for a while, though you shine your flashlight at the map when he asks, your arm threaded through his and face leaning on his shoulder. "I'm so confused," you mumble. 

"Don't worry. I know where we are now," he says.

"No, I know where we are too, but I'm confused as to why I thought this was a good idea." 

"This is a good idea because I've had greasy hair for two weeks and I feel like a worm," Robin says. "And we need blankets, and moisturiser, and to feel like real people."

Steve has a better list than that. He needs moisturisers for your cracked hands, antiseptic for the healing cut on your thigh. He needs shaving foam or at the least a goddamn razor, a new shirt, you both need underwear and you're in dire need of shoes that fit. He wouldn't mind a compression support for his knee, a pair of scissors, and most of all a box of cigarettes —a quick trip to the pharmacy would fix a lot of problems. 

"I feel pretty real." 

"You're real pretty," Steve says quickly. 

"Yes! Oh, yes! Kiss?" you cheer, delighted at his swift wit. 

Steve knows —he knows— you're putting on a brave face for him. He cried on your shoulder and you haven't cried since. You're being the strong one. You're trying to make it work. 

You've always been the strong one. Steve has taken care of you so many times; held your hand in torrential rain when you were too tired to go on; scrambled through rotten floorboards to find you on your back and unconscious, fed you water in your sleep half-worried you were dying and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He's fought for you, the dead and the living —he would do worse for you. But you've done the impossible, surviving every ache and pain, coming back from things he didn't think you would. You crawled through glass for him. You stumbled in the dark bleeding and exhausted to do as he asked, to meet him at the end of an endless day. 

He gives you the kiss you asked for. There's only one clue that you aren't as happy as you seem. Your breath catches as he leans down, like you thought he might not give you one after all. 

It takes you hours to get there and way longer than you thought. You don't realise you're upon it until the grass turns to roads under your feet, and the road turns to parking lot. There's a shattering of glass spread over the floor like a spilled bag of salt that crunches under your shoes. Steve grips your elbow and the three of you creep inside past the doors. They're open, which is bad and good. Bad because someone's been here since the last time, and might still be inside. Good, because Steve's not sure any of you have the energy to open them. 

"I don't think I have to say this, but please, let's whisper from here," Steve suggests. 

"Damn, do we have to?" Robin whispers. "I was just about to start my rendition of Singing in the Rain." 

You laugh through your nose. 

"We'll go up to the bedding store, okay? And we'll grab some blankets, and then we'll find a storage room and barricade ourselves in."

"Steve, I wanna sleep on a mattress," Robin whines. 

"But we don't know who's here," he says. "Buckley, I swear, I'll carry a mattress back to camp for you if that's what you want, but we have to live to see the morning first." 

"It's not like we haven't done it before," you say, nudging her gently. "Can we go back to whispering? I'm really nervous. I don't want to attract anything." 

"Sorry," Robin whispers. 

Being outside in the dark had felt horrifying but mostly manageable. Being inside is terrifying too, and though your flashlights make it easy to navigate now that there's walls for the light to reflect off of, it's scarier knowing this is an enclosed space. You can only run so far in either direction. 

Your fingers twist in the corner of his hoodie. He doesn't say anything. For a split second, he remembers you doing it in the past, before he'd even thought about kissing you, when you were scared and he was more angry than anything else (though not usually at you). He'd pretend he didn't feel it. He was a bitch but he was never cruel, and if you needed to scrunch the hem of his jacket in your hand to feel better then that was alright. 

"You okay?" he murmurs. 

"I'm okay. I think my cut is weeping." 

"What?" he asks, head clicking as he turns to you. "Since when?"

"Not sure, it just feels weird, like it's wet." 

"This is the kind of thing I'd love to know." Steve sighs. "The bedding place is up here somewhere. You can let me take a look at it." 

You, Steve and Robin walk up the frozen escalators, your footsteps making banging metal sounds that echo through what feels like the entire mall. Hackles raised, Steve ushers you both into the bedding store, pulling Robin by the sleeve before she can stop to deliberate over blankets to the very back of the store where a door demarcates the Staff Only room. 

"Listen," he whispers, "we are going to go in there back to back, just like we always do. Robs, I promise, as soon as I've checked her leg, I'll help you do whatever you want. Cool?" 

"My leg is fine." 

"If it gets infected, I know for a fact there aren't any antibiotics here," he says. They've looked. "We have to stay in front of it. Are you ready?" 

"Steve, we're not amateurs," Robin says. She hums. "Okay, I might be, but you owe Y/N some respect." 

"No, I'm an amateur." 

"You're not an amateur," Steve says. "Girls, please." 

"Can we veto 'girls'? I want to be dudes," Robin says. 

"Robin–" 

"Okay, okay! Let's do it." 

—

You wake up with the driest mouth in the world, your head bumping from hunger and bad sleep —the floor still feels like the floor, no matter how many pillows you have— to sounds just outside of the door. 

You hike up on elbows and feel your heart climb into your mouth. Steve's hand is on your neck, and Robin's foot is over your calf, and this is a very bad time to be locked in, especially weighed down as you are by fleece blankets. 

"Steve," you whisper, blindly reaching out with your own hand. You accidentally smack him in the face with the base of your thumb. "Oh, shit, sorry. Steve, there's something outside." 

He's impressively alert when he opens his eyes. He couldn't have been sleeping deeply. "What kind of something?" he whispers back, sitting up. 

He pushes the blankets away and climbs onto his knees. The noise happens again, quickly followed by a smash and a third sound like a thump. 

Robin flinches awake next to you. You put your hand on her shoulder, hoping it says, Hey, it's fine, you're fine.

"Where's your bag?" Steve asks you, standing up tall.

It's disgusting, but you're holed up in the employee bathroom. As far from the toilet and sinks as physically possible but with a buffer from the door. Staying in a storage closet hadn't been possible, the staff room door hanging off the hinges enough to not close, and the storage room a medium space crammed to bursting with mattresses and shelves of sheets that wobbled threateningly when touched. 

Your bag is somewhere under the blankets. You scramble onto your knees and search for it. You'd put your things away for the sake of neatness. Silly move.  

"Here," you say, pulling out a flashlight for Steve. He takes it into one hand, pen knife in the other unsheathed. "It's probably a geek." 

"Yeah. Can you put your shoes on?" he asks, not unkindly. 

You shake yourself and do as he asks you to. Robin helps you up. Steve creeps to the door, waiting for you both before he opens it into the main floor. 

"I don't think we need the torch," Robin says. 

Daylight illuminates the room through the windows set in the west wall. You all squint and step out, arms in defensive positions, treading softly so as not to be heard. 

Another thump. You can't hear footsteps, exactly, just the occasional, irregular thump. Geeks are usually noisier. Dragging steps. They'll walk into walls if they're following a specific scent. 

Steve turns to you both and raises his eyebrows. Brace yourselves. 

He hits the butt of the knife into the wall three times. 

Nothing shows itself. You stand frozen for a few minutes anyways, even when Steve and Robin decide they want to venture further into the room and scope out the place. You watch their backs, heart still pounding and with no signs of stopping. 

“Oh, fuck,” Steve curses. 

“What?” you and Robin hiss at the same time. 

“Come here. Y/N, come over here,” he says, like you aren’t already half-way across the floor to meet them. 

Steve gestures at a showcase bed with velvet purple sheets. They’re not even dusty, no signs of time or wear, nothing to speak of a different age. Nothing, that is, beside the dead bird on the pillowcases, and the carpeting of fur surrounding it. It's odd for Steve to point you towards any gore, and you're a tad shocked, until he takes your forearm in his hand and pulls you in front of him. "See?" he murmurs. 

He points to the pillow. You follow his finger. 

Robin speaks first. Correction, Robin squeaks first. 

"Is that a cat?" she asks, all the excitement of her discovery squashed tightly into a frankly impressive whisper-shout. 

Robin refuses to move after that. She begs Steve for some of the dried jerky (of unknown origin and animal) from the rucksack and lays down on her stomach when the tugged tabby you've found flees beneath the bed frame. "Here, kitty," she murmurs, her gentlest tones. "Come on, killer, I need your help." 

Steve nudges you.

"Oh, you're talking to me?" you ask Robin.

"I need your help," Robin insists, looking at you from over her shoulder. Her hair is limp around her face, her cheeks flushed red with excitement. "She has to know we're all friends."

"Watch my back?" you ask Steve. 

He sits on the end of the bed, "Don't have to ask." 

You set down carefully next to Robin and peer under the bed for the tabby. Your arrival has scared her half to death. 

"Maybe she's only used to seeing geeks," you say. 

"Maybe she thinks we're geeks," Robin says agreeably. 

"Me and Steve found a dog once, but he wouldn't let us touch. He begged for food and then he ran away," you say. 

"The dog wouldn't let you touch him, or Steve wouldn't let you touch the dog?" Robin asks, waving the jerky around.

"A bit of both." 

"Kitty," Robin sings. 

"Oh, god, this is comfy as fuck," Steve mumbles, laying down in bed. "Robin, you have to get up and watch your six, babe." 

You and Robin laugh in sync and aloud at his 'babe'. It's you who stands and continues taking mild guard. You're not worried about intruders anymore, thinking that any company would have presented itself already, but you like keeping them safe. You take check of every corner of the room, spinning in the world's slowest circle. Robin baby talks to the cat under the bed while offering scraps of jerky. Steve, having curled away from the bird, lets his fingertips brush your thigh each time you turn. 

"Getting dizzy?" he asks. 

"Yes. And hungry, too, which is a weird feeling together. Can I have some of the jerky?" 

Steve offers the bag. "If you're hungry, eat what you want, but if you can keep it to a little portion just in case we can't find anything else, honey…" 

You stop spinning so much to eat jerky. You eat more than you should, you hunger a cruel, sharpened thing that jabs from your stomach and up into your diaphragm. You hand Steve back the bag before you can eat someone else's share and decide to focus on the other negatives in your life, like your shoes. 

"Can we look for shoes soon?" you ask. 

"Yeah, honey," Steve says. Honey, honey. His voice is soft with an ever-present fatigue. 

"I don't think this cat likes me very much," Robin says, still singing. 

"She's just scared. Maybe if we leave and come back again she'll realise we're friendly," Steve says. 

"Yes sir." Robin stands, brushing herself down. "Oh, ew, Steven, how can you lie there? You know the cat's probably spayed all over that bed, right?" 

Steve springs up. "Okay, ew." 

“It’s okay,” she says. “Let’s go get some new clothes.”

It’s harder than it should be. The three of you move from store to store on high alert for what has to be an hour, searching for practical, fitting clothes. The time for modesty is over, and you take turns changing in front of one another while the others make sure you aren’t about to become naked geek feed. You’re so unclean that putting clean clothes on feels wrong, but you do it anyhow. You double back to the store with suitcases and bags and fill a suitcase to bursting point with the clothes that Joyce requested for the children. You sit yourselves down at some point, always exhausted, to try on sneakers. The relief of finding and changing into a pair that fits cannot be understated. When you’re sure there’s at least pants and a sweater for every child, you pack up and head for the fancy soap shop. 

Robin is ecstatic. Ideally, you can all carry one bag on your shoulders and pull one suitcase, so you each fill a bag with soaps and brushes and powders, figuring that if you find food or medication worth carrying you can empty one of the bags rather than double back. 

“I’m sorry we didn’t actually sleep on a mattress,” Steve says. 

Robin shrugs nonchalantly, kicking aside an empty helium tank with her foot as you pass by a card and gift store. She’s grown less happy as time goes on, unsatisfied with the day's events. Finding nice soap hadn’t felt important with no water around to use it. The cat was rabid, you’re all living off of jerky and river water, and now you have to hike home again in the dark, hours of fear and tenseness. 

“I miss your car,” Robin says. 

You hadn’t ever been in Steve’s car, but you say, “Me too.”

“Maybe we should find a real tent,” Steve says, apparently not listening. 

“Isn’t that kind of mean?” Robin asks. 

“I mean, if the others wanted a tent, they could’ve come.”

“I don’t think it's mean,” you say. “But I don’t see how we can carry it.”

“I can carry it,” Steve says. “Just a small one. Big enough for us.”

“Does us include me?” Robin asks. 

Steve laughs. “Duh, it includes you. It’s Y/N that’s gonna have to sleep outside.”

“Or me and her can have the tent and you can be our watchdog.”

“We can’t, um, stay outside forever, right?” you ask quietly. 

Steve puts his arm over your shoulder for a quick squeeze. “No, we can’t. We’ll find somewhere permanent soon. There’s barely any geeks the more we get into Michigan, who knows. Maybe there's none at all up top. But…" He lets you go. "I'll find somewhere." 

"Steve, you sound ridiculous," Robin says. "'I'll find somewhere,'" she quotes, voice deepened. 

Robin might joke, but you feel reassured by Steve's promise. You keep your head up for the rest of the day. 

— 

Later, much later, when you've travelled back to the camp with aching everythings and taken the world's coldest bath in the river nearby, you, Robin and Steve pitch your brand new tent and near collapse. It was night when you finally reached the camp that day, and so it was morning by the time you laid down. Steve has to admit that bathing and building a tent in the dark had been fun, annoying and indicative of the situation but a pleasure anyhow, to hear his favourite people in the whole world trying not to shriek at the cold water, overjoyed and laughing as you finally washed your face with real soap, and terrified that the river would knock you down. 

You're shaking with the cold now in his arms, practically sitting on his thigh as you brush his still damp hair back from his eyes. 

"I can't believe you're still cold," he says, kissing the line of your jaw affectionately. 

Robin, despite hours without sleep, had volunteered to help Sarah corral the younger kids for some early breakfast. Steve thinks it's because she likes Sarah. Your theory was that she's generous enough to give you a half hour of privacy. She's good like that. 

Whatever it is, you're alone for the first time in days. It's no different than when you're with friends, only you're touchier and Steve's an honest fool. 

You wrap one of your new blankets tighter around your shoulders and shift. "Am I hurting you?" 

"Nope." He squeezes you tightly to his front. "You're shivering. Put your hands under my shirt." 

You do it quickly, smiling like he's given you the world. "'Member when you'd let me do this? Even when we weren't really dating?" 

"We were dating," he says. 

"What, before or after the taco truck incident?" 

"Before," he says sharply. He pauses. "Alright, maybe not then. But we were definitely dating when you'd put your hands in my shirt. You don't do that for just anyone, I'm not a run around." 

"Steve, you used to let me sleep in your lap. Like, a month after we met." 

"'Cos you get so damn cold," he says. You're still shivering. He rests his cheek against your neck. "If I didn't let you, you'd spend the whole night shivering and making these really sad sounds." 

He's not even teasing. Just being honest. 

"I'm sensitive," you say. 

"You're used to sleeping indoors like a normal person." 

You ease off of his lap. He doesn't want you to; he'd keep you close forever. Plus, he feels guilty cuddling you in front of Robin because he knows public displays are uncomfortable, so he wants to really take you in while he can. 

"I have something to tell you," you say. 

"Oh?" 

"Or, something to give you. But I can tell you something if that matters." 

"Tell me anything." Everything. He wants to know everything you have to say. 

"Well… well, before this happened…" You rummage through the bag you'd brought home with you, the tip of your tongue peaking out. "You know, before the world half ended, I wasn't– I don't know if I can say it." 

"Please?" he asks. 

You pull something into your hand. "Alright. I didn't think I'd ever fall in love. And then the world ended, and I really didn't think I would, but you found me and I love you, so it wasn't true." 

He thinks about it. You, years ago, when he'd see you in the halls at school or walking home. He doesn't have much recollection of you beyond that, but it aches in a weird way to think you'd been walking around feeling like you wouldn't be loved. 

Steve licks his lips. "I get it, because I kind of worried the same thing. Like I'd keep loving people more than they loved me." 

"And then you met Robin?" 

"Exactly. She taught me more about love as my best friend than any of the girlfriends I had." 

"Well, I didn't get a Robin back then, but I have you now, and I guess I want you to know it's important to me," you say. "I know things are so hard right now, I know," —you clear your throat as emotion creeps in to your tone— "you put on a brave face for me. I know you're tired. But I keep going for you, and you keep going for me, and I want you to have something so you remember that even if I'm… not around." 

Steve sits up straight. "Hey, you're not going anywhere." 

You blink rapidly.

"Where is it that you think you're going without me?" he asks, softer. 

"Nowhere. But I just need you to know how much I loved you." 

"Love," he corrects. 

"How much I love you," you agree, sniffling. You look around at the tent floor, your shoulders raised just so. "Sorry, I'm not gonna cry or anything, I just hate thinking about it." 

You hand him something wrapped in a new sock. He bites his lip to stop from laughing at the wrapping and unpeels his gift. 

It's a watch. Silver, heavy, glass unscathed and hands tick tick ticking. Steve doesn't know if the time is accurate. His old watch broke a long time ago, but this one looks vaguely similar. 

"You gave me a necklace, once, with a little diamond. I know I don't have it anymore, I shouldn't have taken it off. But you gave it to me when I was miserable, and I know you're not miserable, but–" 

"I am," he says, rubbing his thumb over the watch. There's a tiny diamond set at the bottom of the clock face. He has no idea why, but the idea that you saw it and remembered his gift that long ago, that you wanted him to know you love him, that pays for some truth. "I'm miserable. I'm so scared for us." He breathes out hard. "Sorry." 

Steve's eyes tear up. He tries not to let it show, but he's looking down at the watch and his vision is blurring, and he's thinking Fuck, fuck, I'm crying in front of her again. 

You shuffle across the plastic floor toward him and clutch his hand. He's shaking minutely. You must feel it.

"It's okay, baby," you murmur. 

He ducks his head. 

"It's okay. I know," you say. 

"I know that you know," he says. 

"But it's hard," you prompt. 

"Yeah." 

You needle your arm behind his neck and him close. He can't hold back anymore, throwing his arms around your waist because why would you say that stuff to him? You're so evil, you're horrible, you're the very best thing that's ever happened to him and he loves you and what if you do die? Nobody will ever, ever be like you. There's no one out there with your smile, nobody who turns at the sound of his voice as you do, happy before you've set eyes on him and ecstatic when you have. 

And if you live (please, God, if you live), Steve wants to give you a better life than this. He's constantly panicking because he doesn't know how. 

But you don't mind. You don't love him less for the situation. 

"I don't even know what to tell you," you say, stroking the hair at the back of his neck tenderly, "cos I tell you I love you so much it doesn't feel like what I mean. I love you. I love you, Steve." 

He hugs you until he's not crying, wishing his cheeks would dry themselves when he finally raises his head and kisses your cheek. "Thank you," he says roughly. 

Steve sits back and wipes his nose. You offer the sock. He laughs and bats it away. 

"I love you, too," he says. He thrusts his wrist at you. "Strap me in?" 

You fasten Steve's watch and, in what's becoming a theme, you kiss his pulse. 

"Sorry things have been so hard," you say, adjusting the watch until it's sat comfortably.

"You make it easier." 

"Guys!" Robin says, forcing her way into the tent with an exuberant smile on her face. There's something in her arms, a wriggling mass of matted fur. "Look! The cat followed us home! I'm gonna name him Stinkyboy! Or Shark. Get up, I need help catching a fish!" She waves the cat's paw at you both. "I knew he liked me!" 

—-

the Steve zombie au