#I know some of the cucumbers in the lost and found are old but that’s too bad :(
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Does everyone have their honorary cucumber? If you don’t have one just get one from the lost and found :) Okay, let us recite these words
*reads paper*
O THY CUCUMBER PLEASE SUMMON THE ONE THAT IS NAMED MARKET OF THE PLIERS!
Creds to @lady-raziel for bringing back the cucumber! Keep that trap steady lol maybe put some takis or some corn juice :)
#markiplier#shaking and crying rn#I know some of the cucumbers in the lost and found are old but that’s too bad :(#did you know that cucumbers with takis powder are delicious#i’m hungry
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hi im lost in the kon & clark + kon & the kents sauce today.
thinkin about how clark takes him to live with ma and pa shortly after "our worlds at war" - after kon has lost guardian, and now mickey and dubbilex and everyone he knew at cadmus has vanished and left him on his own. after he's been used and discarded by knockout, tana, and rex leech. he's not even two years old and there is a whole list of adults who he relied on and who he's already lost because, as he believes, of his own inability to be what they needed him to be. he wasn't savvy enough to realize rex was using him for money, he wasn't heroic enough to save knockout from herself, he wasn't mature enough for tana to love him, he wasn't good enough of a superhero to prevent guardian from being killed in the leadup to everything with apokolips...
anyway, what i'm getting at is that he's used to nearly all of his relationships with adults having a time limit, and to being left alone to fend for himself when that time limit runs out. so, uh, the first time he has any sort of argument with clark, or clark expresses any frustration with him...
which, imo, is extremely possible because, like. kon's an impulsive kid who doesn't always listen to others or ask for help when he needs it (partly because he's so used to fending for himself!) and clark definitely has a protective streak, and i think it'd frustrate clark that kon didn't even tell him he had nowhere to go after cadmus went underground. like he gets that kon's got issues but also Please For The Love Of God. People Who Love You Want To Help You But You Have To Tell Them You Need Help. he wants to help and protect kon but kon doesn't even realize the things he's gone through are fucked up and that he shouldn't have had to deal with them, let alone on his own. suggesting that he should lean on others would make him bristle. and he definitely doesn't want to be a bother or a burden on superman.
so it's a point of contention but like, the love is there. it's a point of contention BECAUSE the love is there.
anyway i'm just thinking of the first time clark tries to talk to kon about opening up and asking for help and telling him or ma or pa or lois when something is up, and kon getting mad at him because he can handle himself and he's not incompetent, and clark being like that's not what i'm trying to say at all, i'm plenty competent and i lean on people when i need to and so should you. but kon's a traumatized and headstrong teenager who doesn't want to hear it, even (especially) from his idol, and clark gets a little frustrated, and then kon ??? stops arguing and just gets really disproportionately upset out of the blue??? and shuts down and then runs off??? and clark doesn't understand what happened exactly but clearly SOMETHING is wrong. figures he'll give kon some space and talk to him again in the evening when he's had a chance to cool off.
instead not even an hour later martha kent hollers for clark to get over to kansas and explain his side of things because she KNOWS the boy she and jonathan raised would Never have told kon he's sick of cleaning up his messes and wants him out of his parents' house and might even be planning to take his name back from him. (clark, hearing this: HE THINKS I WHAT???????? D: D: D:)
(ma sent pa to check on kon when he didn't come down for dinner and pa found him sniffling and stuffing clothes into a suitcase. he said clark hadn't told him to get out yet but it was only a matter of time. they are gonna have a nice long family heart-to-heart and at the end of it pa is going to have to talk ma down from hunting down rex leech with a shotgun.)
anyway kon gets a Really good family group hug that he TOTALLY doesn't cry about (he's cool as a cucumber about it!! really!!) and gets whacked across the head with a boatload of affirmations and reassurances that even if any of them ever argue, his place here and his name and status as part of the family are never going to be in question. (ma wants the shotgun again when he seems genuinely surprised by this.) it might even be the origin of them coming up with "conner kent". a second name just for him, as part of clark's family on earth too.
i am just. so not immune to stories about a little guy who's not used to having a family Getting A Family you know?????
#rimi talks#rambles#its a fic idea technically but i still want to workshop it more. its about how kon is 16 and not good at healthy communication#hes a kid who's used to being a commodity first and foremost not a kid and it fucks with his perceptions of his relationships esp w adults#also for the record i do think martha kent should be allowed to go after rex leech with her shotgun if she so desires#but mostly its about kon getting a big family group hug. you know his touch-starved ass will cry#kon#clark#ma kent#pa kent
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Sanders Sides as things I've said/heard
all of these are sourced from me. feel free to use them yourself for other characters and such, but i ask that you tag me in it. sorry for how long this is
Remus: continuously poking Roman
Roman: OH MY GOD STOP TOUCHING ME
Logan: Oh! did you know that—from a microscopic level—you can’t actually touch someone? Atoms don’t touch.
Patton: But they aren’t named Adam? That’s Roman and Remus!
Logan: scientific fuming
<<•>>
Janus: about something that has nothing to do with Christianity Read the fucking Bible!
<<•>>
Logan: While we’re reading this book, what are your impressions about this character?
Patton: I think he was in jail or involved in something illegal.
Logan: Good, now, why something illegal?
Patton: Well, most people in jail are involved in something illegal
<<•>>
Virgil: I need help? Yeah, when I’m dead. When they’re putting my body in… the carcass box…
<<•>>
Virgil: No questions, but I’m not sure how long I can keep it together before the demons get to me.
<<•>>
Remus: playing cards with the others I will peel your face off with a wire cutter!
<<•>>
Remus: making Nanaimo bars with patton Should we use the beating machine for the cream part?
<•>>
The sides are going through old junk and find a paper doll with Roman’s name on it (it looks nothing like any of them)
Virgil: Aw, it looks just like you, Roman!
Roman: That’s my choir boy you bitch!
<<•>>
Roman: probably to Logan Do you want a tumbleweed? Cause you’re really boring.
<<•>>
Playing some game like tag idk
Roman: Hey! No fair, I hurt my leg!
Virgil: Death won’t give a fuck when he reaps your soul
<<•>>
Virgil: This tastes drugged…
Remus: You already are drugged!
<<•>>
after Roman said something
Virgil (or Janus): I lost… so many brain cells
<<•>>
Logan: Why did you say smash to an arachnid?
Remus: You underestimate how amazing spiders can be
<<•>>
Remus: leans against table Wanna have gay sex?
<<•>>
They all did a “What fanfic trope are you” quiz
Virgil: I got found family?
Roman: Oh so they called you depressed and gay
<<•>>
Remus: Here’s a coin! It’s kinda soggy though…
Virgil: This is… a cucumber slice
Remus: Yeah! (:
<<•>>
Remus: Ugh, people have common sense and it’s annoying
<<•>>
Remus: Say goodbye to your toes!
<<•>>
Remus: Who wants to be reliable when you can be [jazz hands] inconsistent!
<<•>>
Roman: What’s your aesthetic?
Patton: Cartoons!
Virgil: Purple
Remus: Actually, rock
<<•>>
Virgil: I want to die holding a spider
<<•>>
Roman: You punch me a lot…
Virgil: Only when you anger me!
Roman: What about when we played slapjack and you lost?
Virgil: That angered me!
<<•>>
Remus: Mother and father issues? You’ve gotta be kidding!
Virgil: Wow, okay, don’t just call me out
<<•>>
watches a video about a baby race
Janus: It’s all just a metaphor for society…
#sanders sides#incorrect sanders sides#ts roman#ts remus#ts logan#ts patton#ts janus#ts virgil#all of these are verbatim what i heard/said or as close as i could get#my friends and i are weird as shit but i love us#i still have more so i might do a part two of sorts#have a lovely day y'all!
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Door Reviews: Soul of Sovereignty Prelude (2023)
There was a time when I was very much into webcomics. Don’t get me wrong, I still am into them in theory, but I have not had energy to read as voraciously as I did before. I haven’t had time to get into new ones either. I am still fond of them, however, and keep up with a couple webcomics.
It is during my webcomics phase that I discovered the works of ggdg. I found myself reading Cucumber Quest and enjoyed it a lot! When the comic went on indefinite hiatus, I kind of lost track of what they were up to, though I have faint memories of reading Lady of the Shard.
Years later, a friend of mine told me about this game. When they linked it, I realized that wait, this is from ggdg! And the memories came flooding back. It made me so excited to play this game. Well, now I have! I’m excited to talk about it :)
What’s it about?
“Soul of Sovereignty is a tale of deadly kindness and selfish virtue in a world of magic and ruin,” says the game’s itch.io page. It is a visual novel about two souls whose fates become intertwined. They go on a journey that will be of more importance than they would expect.
It should be noted that this game is just a prelude to the whole story. Not all of the questions you will find yourself asking will end up being answered here. Also! I’ll just call it SoulSov from this point on because that’s shorter lmao
STYLE (Gameplay, Graphics, Music)
SoulSov is a visual novel. It shows background art with characters in the foreground, displaying text to tell the story itself. As far as gameplay goes, it is pretty simple… but I think ggdg does some subtle things here. The layout, the way the movement of the text flows with the art, there’s a few things that help with the conveyance of the story itself. I don’t really know how common it is in the genre, as I haven’t played enough visual novels, but I appreciate these small things.
The art is beautiful. Downright ethereal at some points even! I loved seeing the old yet homey inn and the snowy woods. I loved seeing these wonderfully designed characters. They look so solid, yet soft at times.
The music, I find, is pretty good and apt. It’s nice and gentle in some places, and intense when it needs to be. The sound design is also good, shifts in the snow can be heard, creaking floorboards, the howling of the wind.
The UI is good. I like how there’s a History tab so that I can easily backtrack when I feel like I missed some words. I also like how there’s a Cast section so I can easily see descriptions of the characters. I like that the Glossary section is an external way to provide more lore to the world.
Overall, I definitely like the style of this game. Beautiful art, wonderful prose, it all combines well and lets me experience a story in a nice way.
SUBSTANCE (Story, Characters, Impact)
I loved the story. I loved how the world unfolded before me, from a cold, sleepy hamlet to a sprawling empire of a city. I loved seeing all the characters, their quirks, how they interacted with each other. Most of all, I loved how the worldbuilding revealed itself. The importance of flowers, the history of certain sites, the pantheon of the world… ggdg discusses just enough to paint a picture but leaves out enough to make me want to know more.
The story takes its time. It wants you to feel the weight of each sentence, to understand each brushstroke of a painting. ggdg makes sure that each click of the mouse moves the story in an efficient and economical way, which makes for a tight story that still expresses itself well.
I have not played much graphic novels, but what I find interesting is how you can “turn the page” so to speak. When I say turn the page, I talk of how certain forms of media dictate the flow of stories. With books, you turn the page. With comics, you go from panel to panel and turn the page. With film, you frame the story with your camera and dictate the very story itself with what you choose to record with it. With games? It’s different with each genre. But for this game, each click of the mouse (or press of the spacebar) turns the page. At some points, turning the page here means it reveals each sentence when you’re ready, showing accompanying art and changes in character sprites. At other points, it reveals each block of text, revealing changes in background and introducing new areas. While describing it this way feels a bit granular, it didn’t feel too slow when I moved through the story. And I think this approach makes the important moments hit better.
Overall, the story fucks. I enjoyed it a lot!
VERDICT
I haven’t played enough graphic novels to judge this as a graphic novel, but as a game I enjoyed SoulSov immensely. The art is great. The story is great. I’m excited to experience more installments of this game and find out more about this world! I am glad to have this game be the first game I finished in 2024. I wholeheartedly recommend it to everyone!
Door Rates Soul of Sovereignty Prelude: 5/5!
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It’s my second day in Germany. I’m typing this from a sunwashed hotel room, in a hotel that I didn’t realize was meat-themed until I saw its name on several butcher shops and a 24-hour sausage vending machine.
Breakfast was free, and served in an elegant dining room. It consisted of assorted charcuterie and cheeses, sliced tomato and cucumber, a thick orange-coloured juice that I think might have been apricot, excellent coffee with thick yellow cream that tasted slightly cultured, and an assortment of breads. The honey was weird, but pleasantly so. It tasted herbal, rather than floral, if that makes any sense.
I left my brother’s house in Milton on Tuesday morning. My aunt threw me a party on Sunday. I got to see cousins I haven’t seen in years. Some of them tried to talk me out of dreading the separation, but like, I wasn’t going to decide not to go or anything. Just, I knew it was going to be rough, and there’s no way not to make that part rough, so it makes sense to build in space for it.
So far it’s been exactly as hard as I thought it would be. My dad didn’t want to chance travelling to southern Ontario and staying with two school-aged children while his health is so iffy, so he stayed home. Will and Mom saw me off at the airport. I did my flights under a blanket of sadness that didn’t really go away until I touched down (whereupon it was replaced by exhaustion, mild annoyance, and culture shock).
My mom bought me a whole new wardrobe before I left. It was really important to her, even though that meant just getting several copies of the one outfit I wear. My old black trench coat, though still exquisite, had definitely seen better days (the front pocket was holey, and I tore the sleeve on the metal housing for a subway poster over the summer), and even I had to admit that my grey and yellow hiking boots weren’t really professional attire. So we found new boots that just slip on, because I am of an age where I think it’s safe to admit that I hate tying shoelaces and should quit expecting myself to, and a new super-fancy black trench coat that I managed to find for about 70% off. The difficulty is, both of these were purchased on Monday, my last full day in Canada, so I had no time to break them in/become accustomed to their vagaries. The boots are a little narrow for my gargantuan Routcliffe feet, and the coat is entirely waterproof, which I’m sure will be fabulous in the rain, but wasn’t so great for sweat. If I ever get famous enough here to warrant, like, a statue with a fountain in my honour, the water will dribble gently from my sleeves. I do look about as sharp as I can manage, though.
So far my German listening has been seriously defective. I don’t know if it was because of my tiredness yesterday, but even when I knew basically what I wanted to say, often I ended up saying, “Darf ich Englisch sprechen?” because I couldn’t understand anyone. I could probably manage if they were slower, but I was convinced that “langsam” was the Norwegian creeping into places where it didn’t belong, and the only other word I could think of was “langweilig,” which I knew was definitely German, but I wasn’t sure how the guy at the sandwich counter would react to my asking him if he could please be a little more boring.
Convinced that the local clock tower is not a reliable teller of time. It makes noise on the hour, but the number of chimes do not seem to correspond to the times as I know them, not even on a 24-hour clock. Plus, at 11:30 they just let it go wild for like five solid minutes.
Anyway, I have an appointment with university folks at 4,and a few hours to kill until then. Jet lag has, as always, turned me temporarily into a person who is awake during the day, if not actually a day person. And I’m keenly feeling the distinction right now, because I feel compelled to stick around and not get lost before my appointment, but I don’t have much energy or much focus to get done any of the other things I could/should be doing.
Nevertheless, I should probably wander out and explore a little. I need a SIM card, more fruits and vegetables, a pair of nail clippers, and most importantly a nice walk to break in my narrow narrow shoes.
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❝ i've got a hundred thrown out speeches i almost said to you ❞
stats:
full name / greyson henry love
nicknames / grey
age / 38
dob / jan. 5th
star sign / capricorn
sexuality / bisexual
hometown / london, england
current residence / seattle, wa
subject / building a spell: the art of poetry in magic
demeanor:
likes ; brand new pens, the smell of old books, playing guitar, going to smaller venue concerts, taking the ferry, walking the waterfront, adding a new book to his collection, cucumbers
dislikes ; talk of the war, when people ask if he's met the queen after they hear his accent, wands
usual temperament ; quiet, reserved, usually lost in a thought. generally he can be found in his classroom either grading papers or playing his guitar between classes. he always has time for his students, and takes great care in making sure they know they can always come to him for help. he still remembers the disinterest in many of his professors in hogwarts, and he strives to be nothing like them.
highlights:
greyson spent his days in a cold manor. his parents expected too much, always, and he always exceeded expectations. but it was never enough. they always wanted more and used brute force to make that known. it took a long time for him to simply stop caring. he focused on music, the one thing he really cared about, and did well enough in school to get by. he quickly became the family shame. it was why, after leaving hogwarts, he dropped the last name greengrass and changed it to love. a small nod to something he'd never had.
for a long time he floated. played his music well enough to make some money and make a name for himself locally. met a girl named delilah and fell in love. within a few months of their relationship she fell pregnant. he was terrified and she was excited, together they planned their lives together as a family. even started planning a wedding. up until his daughter was born he remained afraid, though he kept it to himself as best as he could. but the moment he watched her come into this world...he loved her. he was still terrified, but he was sure he would be nothing like his parents. rosalind love was born at 2:13am and his world was forever changed.
unfortunately, his relationship with delilah changed as well. she avoided him and their baby. accused him of wanting to run off and just play his music and not loving either of them. and then about 3 months later she was gone. leaving him alone with their daughter. he tried for over a year to find her until he had to just give up and accept that it was just him and his rosie from now on.
the year before she got her letter the rumors about voldemort's return were starting. he knew his daughter was a witch, and that if there was any truth to this she could be in danger, especially if anyone knew her mother was a muggle. so he fled before she could ever get her first letter. in the time since she'd been born he'd started exploring magic again but with a different approach. one that had interested a few magical universities. but it was the offer from uw he took because it brought him and his baby girl far away from a war she should never have to fight. in the years as things ramped up and he heard reports of the tragedies coming from his old school, it cemented his lack of regret over leaving.
rosie opted to only attend a magical school in seattle. her reasoning was that she hated math, and if she was going to be forced to learn it then she better also learn some really cool stuff too. greyson didn't mind, despite his own reservations with the magical world, he could see it was different enough here that things might be okay for her.
his family never reached out, but he heard they'd joined the death eaters, all while still calling him the family shame. he knew very few of them would survive a real war. they were monsters, sure, but they were also pampered housecats that didn't really care to get their hands dirty. should it come to that, he will not mourn them, nor will he ever step foot back there to help the fight. not if it meant putting his daughter at risk.
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Intermittent fasting day 5
Happy new year!
I had a good fasting day. I ate my usual breakfast and evening snack. I also ate my usual lunch and dinner but swapped them and had dinner for lunch and lunch for dinner (I had salmon which was very good).
I drink coffee daily and realize I don't need sweet coffee. Back at home I would add around 1/4 tsp of chocolate coffee syrup which is nothing. I used to put in full tablespoons in ADDITION to overeating dark chocolate and overeating in general, plus eating a lot of junk food (around that time I recall once coming home and having caramel m&m's and hot cheetos for dinner). But I do need to have coffee because I love drinking it, even without the sugar and sweetness. Just 1/4 tsp of syrup.
I do eat dark chocolate and do have an extent of a sweet tooth/ As I said supplements help reduce cravings and IF will take it a step further. I don't want to fixate on calories, I just want to consider how much dark chocolate, cheese, and condiments I am consuming.
I went for a walk afterwards before the new year countdown. The main street was completely empty, so I left because I didn't feel like walking alone (it's nicer to walk in that area with people around). I took another path closer to my house and walked all the way down to the end of the street. It wasn't a very long walk, but I'm happy I went.
It's pretty easy to find places to walk in Cyprus as there are sidewalks everywhere. Though a slightly bit more challenging that walking back home because I'm new to here so I'm not as familiar with the streets. And some roads are less organized so it's easy to get a bit lost. Also I came across a few squirting/exploding cucumbers which used to scare me as a kid and they still do. I found a couple of them here and then had to run the other way. They scare me like how snakes and spiders or trypophobia scare others. They are gross and fuzzy, and even worse is that they explode when you touch them. They make my skin crawl and give me the creeps. Thankfully there aren't much here as the first time I saw them they were all over my grandfather's farm in northern Jordan by the Syrian border. But regardless I love walking here. It's fun and very safe. It also reminds me of my college days where I would go out late at night for walks.
It is 10 AM now and I get to eat in 3 hours. Thankfully I'm not too hungry. I woke up at 7.
In hope I keep up the IF and walking habit. I love walking and it's very second nature, I hope IF becomes the same.
Though I do want to pay slight attention to what I am eating and how much. I eat dark chocolate (70%) because I love chocolate but don't want to have a big sweet tooth. So I eat dark. I do have a slight sweet tooth (it used to be worse before taking my supplements). I feel it is fine as long as I don't consume a lot of sugar throughout the day. I already don't. I know my supplements helped me with sugar cravings and consumption by a lot, now IF can boost it a step further. By learning how to be full most of the time, sugary stuff and junk food will be less tempting.
I remember back in college when I was restricting calories, I felt pretty good mentally in one aspect amongst a bunch of other mental and emotional issues I was struggling with that thankfully got better. But that aspect was self control and image from not overeating. Yes my diet was restricted, but I felt happy and at peace in general because I wasn't eating a lot of junk and sugar and wasn't eating a lot in general. So that sense of discipline and control was a confidence booster. Not necessarily just with looks, though it did help me lose weight, but my character and personality as well. This completely disappears when I lose control of my eating. I wasn't the healthiest back then and was restrictive and harsh on myself, but I can psychologically mimic those old feelings now through IF which my method will be much healthier than calorie counting. It's that feeling of discipline where I know I am avoiding things that are not good for me, such as junk food, toxic people, large crowds, loud environments and music areas, p0rn addiction, etc... I felt safe alone not eating junk food and being being around large crowds of other people at say bars and clubs who would temp me.
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“HOME ALONE” AT ROYAL BUFFET
By Jesse Reyes
The title of my piece today is a half-truth. I just wanted to pique your curiosity by including the title of a movie (Home Alone, a 1990 movie starring Macaulay Culkin grossing $474 million in profits) in my title! Yes, I was alone, my wife unable to join me due to baby-sitting constraints.
I was not at home, however. I was at Royal Buffet, a Chinese Restaurant, where you can eat everything your palate desires from 12:00 noon to 3:00 p.m. I enjoy a 10% senior discount here (one of the advantages of being a senior!). I am also retired so I can take my sweet time in my gastronomic adventure. I consider this place as one of my offices away from home for I can write an essay or poem or play chess on my computer while eating ever so slowly! By the way, I’m not being paid for doing this advertisement!
Since I was alone, I wasn’t able to apply the basics of a successful conversation—honesty, the right attitude, interest in the other person and openness about yourself—which Larry King mentions in his book “How to Talk to Anyone, Anytime, Anywhere.” By the way, King was Jewish and was born and grew up in Brooklyn, New York. He died in January 2021. He successfully and with great ease interviewed famous people on TV. Maybe next time I’ll bring along a friend so I can practice what Larry King preaches.
I frequently visit Royal Buffet (once every one or two weeks) trying to gain some weight. I have lost so much weight (I attribute it to one of the medications I take for diabetes), it’s pathetic. My favorites in this place include fried plantain bananas, New York chicken, mushroom, stir-fried green beans, cucumber and radish salad and ice cream. I know what you’re going to say—that ice cream is not good for diabetes, but once in one or two seeks isn’t bad or is it?
They mentioned in the news that today was going to be the funeral of Tyre Nichols, the 29-year old black man who was severely beaten by five black policemen in Memphis, Tennessee and later on died. In attendance was President Biden and Vice-president Kamala Harris, who was to be one of the speakers. Reverend Al Sharpton was to deliver the eulogy. This incident reminds me of the book To Kill a Nockingbird which I had read before, also made into a movie with the same title starring Gregory Peck, a lawyer who defends a black man charged with fabricated rape. The book states that “They don’t do one thing but sing their hearts out for us. That’s why it’s a sin to kill a mockingbird.” You’ll have to read the book or see the movie to understand this statement.
Well, I’ll have to end my rambling here. I apologize for the potpourri of trivia which I included here. I may have eaten too much at Royal Buffet resulting in a fogged brain!
Written in Chicago, IL on Feb. 3, 2023. Other writings and poems of Jesse Reyes can be found in his blog: anadventurecalledlife.com.Posted in FB 2/23.
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“Before my mother died, I routed all her mail to my house. Her catalogues still come everyday” - Victoria Chang
My first pet was a fish named Jason. He jumped out of his bowl while I was away. I had left in a hurry halfway through cleaning it and left the lid open. He spilled across the kitchen tiles like the water clinging to him. Betta fish are great jumpers. We fit a little box to be his grave. But when I picked him up he twitched in my hand. I threw him back in the water and he lived another week still. My mom said he must have jumped because he missed me, because he loved me. My first hamster disappeared. She was a quick little thing, and absolutely devious. Once we had to dig her out of the drywall underneath our chimney. My mom was not pleased about us taking a hammer out of the garage to do it. Even though the door was open we tried the usual to catch her. We put cucumber slices in each room and closed the doors overnight. I hoped she was still in my room, still home. But the food was untouched in the morning. My mom held me as I cried.
My first pet was a fish named James. He jumped out of his bowl while I was away. I had left in a hurry halfway through cleaning it and left the lid open. He spilled across the kitchen tiles like the water clinging to him. Betta fish are great jumpers. We fit a little box to be his grave. But when I picked him up he twitched in my hand. I threw him back in the water and he lived another week still. My mom said he must have jumped because he missed me, because he loved me.
My first hamster disappeared. She was a quick little thing, and absolutely devious. Once we had to dig her out of the drywall underneath our chimney. My mom was not pleased about us taking a hammer out of the garage to do it. Even though the door was open we tried the usual to catch her. We put cucumber slices in each room and closed the doors overnight. I hoped she was still in my room, still home. But the food was untouched in the morning. My mom held me as I cried.
My second hamster died on halloween. Her name was Daisy. I was dressed as a witch, the moon and stars stitched on my skirt. She was an escape artist like her sister and she had gotten out somehow. I stood over the cage later, searching for a flaw, some route I had overlooked. I had the least control over her death and yet it’s the one I felt most guilty for. She never made it past my closet, where I found her. My mom said she must have known she was dying and left to find me.
I didn’t know my uncle had died until long after. He died on the 11th of January but I lost him on the 14th of February. My parents didn’t tell me until then. It hurt to know what time had gone by, that the funeral had been weeks ago already. He was married to my godmother, and for a long time she was like the dead too. Her grief was infectious and stifling. I never grieved my uncle at all for her. I don’t know if I still can. Or if grief is like a window that slowly closes. My mom hugged me when I talked about it this spring, and it’s the closest I’ve come to mourning him.
My mother is sick. I found out at my grandmothers house, my family gathered around the table like closed umbrellas. It’s not curable but it is treatable. In the best case scenario, she becomes too old for the treatment, and her body gives out under the stress of it. When I was smaller i was scared this would be the end. I was scared she wouldn’t be there to see me graduate, to move out, to call the first time I had to do laundry without her. Watching her receive treatment is watching her become sick. She came home from her first month at the hospital a quarter of her weight and hair shaved off. Who will hold me when she dies, who will promise me that I was loved. I wonder if she’ll reach to me when she does. If I’ll finally believe it’s love and not desperation.
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more modern au levi x reader!! is it okay where reader makes petra jealous???
Just a reminder: WE DO NOT CONDONE PETRA SLANDER IN THIS HOUSE!!!
with that said, I will write this heavily focused on Petra to make it a lil angsty, hope you enjoy!
Summary: Petra watches her ex fall for another
Word Count: 1.7K
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It had been two long years since Petra and Levi ended things. It wasn’t messy but it was painful, she had seen it coming from a mile away. He had grown just as distant as he had been when they first met. Staying late at work, texting her dryly, and using terrible excuses. Although she had known it was coming, she still was a wreck when he actually ended things. She spent the months following the break up drinking wine and crashing at Oluo’s place regularly. After two years she was finally feeling better, dare she say, ready to get back into the dating scene? Or at least that’s what she thought, she was scrolling through her instagram feed when she stumbled across Hange’s page. It was someone’s birthday, someone she wasn’t familiar with.
A woman with bight eyes and an even brighter smile was in the center of the group photo. On her right was Levi, who had an arm thrown casually over her shoulder, the faintest trace of a smile on his lips. Petra pinched the screen to zoom into Levi’s side, where she saw a feminine hand on his waist. She stared stupidly at the image. She shouldn’t feel jealous, she had no right. It had been two long years since the break up. But the picture only dredged up old memories of times when she would hold Levi that same way. When that smile was directed to her. She then turned her attention to the caption, which read:
Happy Birthday (Y/n)! 24 never looked so good!
She then scrolled through the comments, many of them consisted of birthday wishes and support. She lost interest when she didn’t see Levi’s username and instead went back to the collection of photos, three of them in all. The group one that she assumed had just been taken, the second one was a picture of Hange and you on the beach, Petra felt a involuntary wave of self consciousness wash over her at the site of you in a swim suite. The final picture was the one that hurt the most though, it seemed to be a very old picture of you, maybe from your early years in college? You were sitting on a couch with younger versions of Hange, Erwin, Levi, and Moblit. Levi’s arm was casually thrown over your shoulders. Why had he never mentioned you before? Were you the reason that they broke up? No Levi had assured her that it wasn’t like that, said he wasn’t seeing anyone else. She tried to stop herself from going down that rabbit hole, but she couldn’t seem to. Before she really knew what she was doing, she had clicked on your profile which she was almost disappointed to find as public. This meant that there was nothing stopping her from judging every perfect image that was posted, and to her pleasant surprise, there was only one photo of you and Levi. The photo was posted the week prior, the two of you were hiking in the mountains, the dusty trial behind you. Your face was flushed from the exertion of the climb, Levi seemed cool as a cucumber, his face blank and void of emotion. She scrolled through the post and found a video, the sound of your shoes crunching and Levi talking behind you were clear as day.
“I mean come on, who uses fucking Lipton? Have some god damn class.” Levi spat, as you snorted in amusement. Petra found herself chuckling along with you at Levi’s little rant. She felt a rogue tear slide down her cheek when you showed the phone to Levi, who’s face fell from being mildly animated to apathetic once more. You cackled as he swiped the phone and the video ended abruptly. It was so innocent, it was clear from the rest of your page that you were a private person, much like Levi. With little indication that you were dating him, it left her wanting to know more. More about the girl that had taken her place, had managed to worm her way into Levi’s heart of stone and make herself comfortable. As soon as these thoughts crowded into her head, she deleted instagram all together and powered her phone down, determined to wipe her memory of the images she had seen.
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The music was a nice distraction from the awkwardness that hung in the air. You had arrived uncharacteristically early to Hange’s party, and consequently meeting a whole group of people that you had never met before. The new people were about your age, three young men and one stunning young woman. It was early fall and Hange’s annual bonfire bash as you all had dubbed the event. Basically you lit a massive fire, when you were younger it was your past assignments from your pervious school year, then it became just regular old wood. You tapped your finger against the cool beer bottle as you leaned up against the counter, the men were laughing obnoxiously as they dropped the alcohol that they’d brought into one of the many coolers. The woman was looking at you almost nervously, she seemed extremely on edge, shifting her weight back and forth, eyes wandering around the room in a jittery manner. You frowned, wondering what was bothering her, but ultimately deciding that it was not really your business. Erwin shimmied behind you, his hands on your shoulders as he slide past you into the kitchen. You caught his arm, clinging to his familiar presence.
“Erwin.” you hissed as he stooped to reach your level.
“Who are these people?” you asked as you held his bicep firmly in your grasp. He pulled away and looked at you with a confused expression.
“You mean Levi didn’t tell you?” He said slowly, clearly he was unsure if it was his place to speak on the relationship between Levi and these people.
“No....” You said carefully, not wanting to make Erwin uncomfortable.
“Oh well they used to work in the same department before Levi switched.” He said, he looked over to the men and motioned for them to come over, they ambled over with curious expressions.
“What’s up Erwin?” the dark haired man asked as he looked between the two of you.
“Just thought I’d ought to introduce you to (Y/n) here, she’s an old friend of ours from high school.” Erwin explained, his hand still comfortingly placed on your mid back. You waved shyly and smiled at all of them, including the girl.
“Pleasure to meet you.” The blonde with a ponytail said, outstretching his hand to shake yours.
“I’m Eld, this is Gunther, Oluo, and that fine young lady over there is Petra.” He said, pointing at all of them respectively.
“It’s so nice to meet you guys!” you said sweetly as you struck up a conversation with Oluo about what they thought about the department that they worked in. It didn’t go unnoticed that Petra remained nearly silent, her amber eyes wide and a bit fearful. When the interns arrived, the men were quick to go help them carry in the alcohol that they brought, leaving you and Petra alone in the kitchen. You cocked your head at her as you poured some pretzels into a large bowl. The warm glow of the setting sun cast a halo over her head and you couldn’t help but voice your admiration for her.
“You’re really pretty.” you gushed as she blushed at your words and turned to look at you with wide eyes.
“So are you...” She returned the compliment and you smiled, feeling more at ease now that the two of you were alone.
“So how long have you known Hange?” You asked conversationally as you crumpled up the bag and tossed it into the trash.
“Hm let’s see...about four years now?” She responded with a bit of a wistful tone.
“Really? I’m surprised we haven’t met sooner!” you chuckled as the two of you opened a bottle of wine and poured it into two large glasses. The two of you strolled out into the bark yard, where Hange and Moblit were chucking large pallets of wood onto the fire pit. You and Petra sat down in two lawn chairs watching as Hange and Moblit bickered over if it was safe enough to light the fire with gasoline.
“I am too, you seem....like a really nice girl.” Petra said a bit downcast as she looked deeply into her wine.
“So do you! We should grab breakfast ooo or maybe even brunch sometime!” You said excitedly and Petra sat there in awe, wondering if there was even a mean bone in your body. Or if you had any clue that she had dated Levi.
“Yeah...this is kind of random but...are you dating Levi?” She blurted out, her face turning to look at you with a flushed expression. You nodded nonchalantly and took another sip of your wine.
“Yeah we just started dating about a year ago.” You said with a shrug, Petra inhaled, readying herself for the next words that would either make or break the future relationship between the two of you.
“Did...you know we dated?” she said, cringing when the words left her mouth. She sounded crazy and she knew it, but she felt obligated to clear the air between you before it got bad.
“Hm I think he mentioned it once or twice, and Hange told me about you when you first started dating.” You said looking up thoughtfully, your tone held no malice or any sign of ill will.
“You’re not...”
“Insecure? Nah, and don’t take that like I’m being cocky! I just mean that...”
“No, no let’s just not do this. I’m sorry for bringing it up. God I’m such a bitch.” Petra went to stand and you followed her, catching her wrist.
“It’s alright really, I don’t care about what happened between you and Levi. It’s frankly none of my business, I just...wanna be friends with you.” you smiled at her sheepishly as she looked at you with wide eyes.
“Oh” She managed to say dumbly.
“That is if you want to be friends.” You said, letting go of her hand and giving her some space.
“Yeah...I think that I’d like that very much.” Petra said with a bright smile.
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In honor of Women’s History month, I couldn’t bare to write something that was a stereotypical jealous ex, so I did the next best thing and wrote this more geared towards the reader and Petra bringing each other up instead of tearing one another down. As someone who was apart of the fandom back in like 2014 I am way too familiar with writers turning Petra into a psycho bitch, and I don’t like that. SO I hope that this is good enough to fit the prompt!
#levi x reader#levi x y/n#levi x you#levi ackerman fanfiction#levi ackerman#jealous petra ral#modern au#erwin smith#hange zoe#moblit#aot fanfiction#aot fandom#light angst#fluff#women supporting women#no petra slander allowed#womens history month
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Quantum Entanglement
Pairing: Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader
Words: 6.4k (oops)
Rating: 18+ (get outta here ya children)
Summary: Steve Rogers decides to disappear, take some time for himself in the solitude of a small town where he meets you.
Warnings: p in v. oral fem receiving. size kink (reader is much smaller than Steve in more ways than one). soft (very very soft) fem dom.
AN: This is stupid soft. Just simping all over the gd place. I'm so sorry but my baby Steve deserves nothing but the purest, sweetest form of love and that's what he's getting, though I imagine he likes to be ordered around. Took me way too long to feel good about this.
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There had been the snap. And then the resurrection. Steve had lost everyone he loved and then had most of them returned, and it felt good to go back to normal, in some ways. In other ways, it was stifling.
As the world reeled and tried to figure out how to "be normal" in a time that was anything but, normalcy felt forced, rushed, exaggerated. He wanted to be in this world, of course. The 1940s were no longer his home, and Steve had everything he wanted here. But he didn't feel complete. A piece was always missing, something from a past life, that he couldn't quite name but knew he had to find.
So he disappeared. Went undercover as some might call it. Bucky knew, of course, and Sam on some level. But to the rest of the world, he had slipped quietly back into the past to live the rest of his life. In reality, he'd slipped into Herrington, Massachusetts, a small coastal town where he was invisible to the world.
He'd found a little house, a cottage on the beach, and settled in completely. He didn't need a job, the government was more than willing to pay him a severance check of some sort, but he took one anyway, stocking the local grocery store and delivering groceries to the elderly when they ordered. It was just antiquated enough to remind him of a faraway time, of the past, but didn't force him to give up his wifi and color television. That was something he'd come to love.
And that was where he met you. You, the petite spitfire with a bone to pick with the entire world. Fierce, loyal, and slightly terrifying when double-crossed. The first time he met you, you had come out of your great-aunt's house shaking a fist over the groceries.
"I told Mr. Pierce," you were yelling, "not to skimp me on the meat." Mr. Pierce was the grocery store owner. And the meat in question was a roast, for what purpose, Steve wasn't sure, but one that apparently did not satisfy your desires.
You hadn't been the one to answer the door, that was your great-aunt Agnes, a kind, leather-faced woman who liked to tip Steve a healthy amount for "carrying all those heavy groceries for a silly old lady like me."
"It's no problem ma'am," he'd replied and stepped back toward his motorcycle, recently decked out with a basket on the back to transport deliveries. Then you'd chased him down the road until he noticed you and stopped, shouting all the way.
"When you see him," you said, your finger wagging in his face, puffing and out of breath from your yelling and running, "tell the bastard that's the last time he gets away with making me pay for his shitty cuts of meat."
Steve didn't really know what to say, but then your face softened, your voice calmed, and you took a deep breath. Maybe the panicked look on his face had made you have a change of heart. "I apologize for yelling at you, I know you're just the messenger. But that slimy son-of-a-bitch is going to get what's coming for him someday."
"I'll let him know," Steve replied with half a smile on his face.
"You aren't from around here are you?" you had asked, a sudden look of curiosity in your bright eyes.
Steve nodded. "Just moved here."
"Look, I'm really sorry." You stuck out your hand and introduced yourself, and Steve had found that hand to be surprisingly supple and calloused for its tiny size. "Let me make it up to you. Aunt Agnes seems to like you. We're having a potluck tonight, her place. Why don't you come by and meet the neighbors? I'm sure they'd love a new face, especially one as handsome and friendly as yours. Maybe make some friends, even."
You were being surprisingly friendly and sincere, and Steve had no choice but to accept the invitation.
So that's how he ended up in an old lady's backyard, handing off a bowl of his mother's jello salad (it was a potluck after all), and accepting a beer from a man who looked similar enough to be your brother (a cousin, it turned out). You didn't even notice his arrival, flying about, getting everything set up, taking part in the appropriate amount of small talk. Earlier, when you'd chased Steve down the road, your hair had been flung all about your head, wisps of it sticking out from all directions and looking positively a mess. You'd been wearing jeans with mud on the knees and a t-shirt that had more holes than necessary for your arms and head. Now, your hair was pinned back and tamed and you floated about in a soft blue sundress, revealing a delicate plane of skin across your shoulders and tan arms and legs.
The calloused hands and muddy jeans made sense now as well. The backyard of Aunt Agnes' house was primarily a garden, not only beautiful rose bushes and creeping wisteria but rows and rows of fruits and vegetables, cucumbers, tomatoes, watermelon, strawberries. The work was obviously the product of a talented gardener.
Aunt Agnes was the one to welcome him in, having noticed Steve before you did and taking his arm. She began to talk, of you and the neighborhood and her many, many family members. She introduced them one by one, though most of the names he immediately forgot. But it was a blessing to not be recognized and he relished the feeling. Sure, he'd grown out his beard and his hair was a bit longer than the standard military high and tight, and he wore a flannel with the sleeves rolled up instead of red, white, and blue spangles, but it still amazed him that he could pass through the world like this.
Eventually, the conversations became too much, and Steve excused himself to the kitchen to find a drink while he waited for the food to be ready. Really he just wanted some silence, a relief from society. But you'd beat him there, and, ever the busy bee, were scrambling to fill a cooler with more ice.
"Steve!" you exclaimed when you saw him, pleasant surprise plastered across your face. "I'm so glad you came."
You reached out and gave him a hug that took Steve so much by surprise he almost forgot to return it. It was shockingly warm, your arms around his neck, and though he had to stoop down to your level, he wrapped his arms around your waist anyways.
"I hope they didn't overwhelm you out there. My family can be a lot."
"No, not at all. Just needed some quiet. I'll let you get back to work."
"I could actually use your help if you don't mind."
You directed him into the front room toward a stack of boxes, cases of drinks he assumed. When Steve returned to the kitchen, all four boxes piled in his arms, you nearly dropped the glasses in your hands in shock. You recovered quickly, trying to remain polite despite your poorly hidden astonishment, but Steve could already tell you were trying to compute how he had managed to carry over a hundred pounds of drinks in one go.
"You can, um, put them on the counter I guess," you managed to stutter out. Your sudden flustered state was amusing, and Steve noticed he liked the way you seemed almost embarrassed, cheeks flushed pink, though he had no idea why you should feel that way.
But then you picked back up with your normal bubbly chatter, and Steve found himself lingering longer and longer in the kitchen with you until he realized neither of you were doing anything but talking, the work abandoned in lieu of discussions about the town, your stall at the farmers market, and eventually, very naturally, the passing of your parents. The slip into deep conversation was easy, surprisingly easy, easier than it had ever been with anyone else, even though Steve felt himself having to lie a bit about his past. Sure, he could admit to being from Brooklyn and having no family and his stint in the military, but that was about the extent of it. He found himself wanting to tell you more but refraining.
When your cousin called that food was ready from the backyard, the jolt back to reality was abrupt and almost unwelcome, until you smiled and allowed him to put a hand on your back, pulling Steve out to enjoy some food.
As night fell, lights twinkled on in the backyard, and the summer heat reduced to a light thrum as the breeze from the ocean swept through the town. Fireflies glowed in the darkness of the low trees behind the house and you seemed to glow as well, good food and friendly conversation lighting your face up with joy. You caught Steve's eye several times during the night, noticing him watching you from across the garden, but he didn't care. He liked that his attention made you smile.
Finally, the party began to dwindle, as parents with young kids trickled out, followed by the older folks, heading off to bed. Soon, even Aunt Agnes turned in and only the cousins close to you in age remained. They pulled out the stronger bottles of alcohol, sitting in plastic chairs and passing shots around the barbeque that still glowed hot with coals. Steve accepted every pass of vodka that came his way, despite knowing it wouldn't get him even remotely drunk. But the camaraderie of the moment helped ease a bit of that gaping hole in his soul so he clung to it as best he could. And you were sitting next to him, insisting he take a sip, and again he couldn't turn you down.
"And then Jack nearly sunk the boat in the bay," you were saying, telling the story of one of your cousin's finer moments. "Your dad almost killed us."
"Oh you want to bring that up?" he teased. "How about the time you snuck out and Aunt Agnes caught you making out with Michael on the beach."
You blushed bright red at the reminder but protested that was years ago. Then another cousin brought up his own late-night escapades and you devolved into a fit of giggles, leaning so far out of your chair that Steve had to catch you before you slipped right to the ground. Your hand gripped his to recover but, to his surprise, you never removed it, even as you righted yourself in your seat. Your hand just remained in his, your small fingers wrapped in his large ones, as you turned to pester him into telling a story.
"What about you Steve? Tell us an embarrassing story."
He looked around at the group and they leaned in expectantly, curious to know more about the stranger who was quickly becoming a friend. Steve didn't know what to say, most of his stories involving things he wasn't yet ready to reveal about himself. So he picked one from long ago.
"I once picked a fight with a guy at a bar. He was a bit of a Nazi. Got my ass kicked. Fortunately, I had a friend to back me up or he definitely would have killed me."
Everyone looked shocked. "But you're so strong," someone spoke up. "Look at you. How could anyone beat you in a fight?"
Steve shrugged, not wanting to admit to it being a pre-serum story. "Guess I'm a bit of a pacifist."
He turned to you to gauge your reaction. Your eyes were wide, sparkling with mischief and curiosity and a hint of disbelief. For a moment Steve thought you had figured it out, figured out who he was, but then you started giggling again and the only thing keeping you in your seat was his hand in yours.
"That's not embarrassing Steve, that's just the most fucking noble thing I've ever heard. Making us all look bad."
Your teasing words made his heart flutter in his chest and he felt like he could get used to this crowd.
Eventually, the coals of the barbeque started to wink out, and the cousins excused themselves for the night, heading home on foot to the various houses they had come from. It seemed no one lived too far apart in this town. Suddenly, the backyard was quiet.
"Can I give you a hand cleaning up?" Steve asked, not wanting to leave you with the job that looked a bit overwhelming to him.
You looked around and shrugged, a little tipsy but fully aware that it was a big mess. "I'll probably just take care of it in the morning. Can you just help me get the dishes inside?"
Steve obediently gathered up plates and cups, filling the dishwasher in several trips. Finally, the last were inside and you stood in the kitchen filling the sink to wash the pots and pans while Steve tried awkwardly to find a way to say goodbye.
"Um, thank you," he said at last, "for welcoming me into your community. It means a lot. I'll, uh, see you later I guess. Have a good night."
You stopped your scrubbing to look up at him, bubbles up to your elbows, your face flushed from the warm night air and the alcohol.
"Steve?"
"Yeah?"
You paused, hesitant, eyes searching his face for confirmation of a mutual feeling. "Do you ever feel like you were meant to meet someone? For a reason?"
The question hit him like a ton of bricks, and he realized that this night had made him feel exactly that way, that somehow he was meant to end up here and meet you, of all people. Why else had there been an instant connection unless this was just the way you were with everyone?
But your question made him think otherwise. You had to be special. Steve, in that moment, could do nothing but nod in affirmation. And then, like you had both had the same thought at the same moment, you were meeting him halfway, rising on your tiptoes, wrapping your arms around his neck, and kissing him. Really, truly, kissing him.
It was like that missing piece had found itself. You slotted your soul into his and Steve was pressing you to his chest, wrapping his arms around you, and lifting you so he didn't have to bend down to reach you. Your wet hands tangled into his slightly too long hair, pulling him impossibly closer, tasting one another's tongues.
And that was the start of it, of late-night motorcycle rides down the causeway, of Saturdays spent on the beach that tapered into drinks with friends, of dinners filled with your chatter and smiles and laughter, and Steve couldn't believe how lucky he was. He was not used to this feeling, of building friendship and companionship and perhaps even love. And he certainly wasn't used to the intense desire to reach out and pinch your ass every time you showed up at his house wearing those gardening jeans, high-waisted and tight and so goddamn cute.
But he never did, was never sure how you'd react. You kissed him, a lot in fact, every morning that he came over and every night that he dropped you off at home. And you never shied away from telling him how handsome he was, how much you liked his hands and his arms and his short beard, how sweet he was and kind and soft and gentle. So many words, words that made his head spin and his world wobble and sway. But it never came to be more than that, never late at night when he was thinking of you most. And oh lord, did he think about you, how your small frame might fit against his in bed while you spooned and slept, or how tight you'd be if he fucked you until the sun rose. He didn't particularly like sleeping in bed, it was too soft for his taste and he tended to take the couch or even the floor most nights, but he would sleep in bed for you if you would just tell him that was what you wanted.
It was like you were waiting for the right moment. And apparently, that moment was July 4th, during the annual celebration. Steve had whispered to you that it was consequently also his birthday, and had begged you to keep that a secret, but it seemed you had simply forgotten the fact entirely. The day passed without mention that Steve was turning 39 (105 if he'd been really counting) and you kissed him as the fireworks exploded over the ocean, sitting in the sand, hands tangled together. He thought the two of you would sit through the show, but then you were standing and pulling him to his feet as well and slipping away as everyone else's faces were turned to the sky.
At your house, you pulled a small cake from the fridge, just big enough to split between two people, and lit a couple of candles as you sat next to him at the kitchen table. Of course, you hadn't forgotten.
"Make a wish," you said with a happy smile. So he did, hoping this summer would never end. "What did you wish for?"
"Can't tell you, otherwise it won't come true," he replied. But then you pouted and he lost all resolve. "How about I show you instead?"
The look on your face said it all, shock mixed with intrigue and the mischief he had noticed that first night almost a week ago. So he reached down and tugged your chair closer, forcing you to face him with your knees between his. And then he leaned over and kissed you, taking your small cheeks in his large palms, putting all the power of his suppressed feelings behind it. He hoped you understood that he wanted more than to just kiss you, he wanted to occupy space inside you, fill you, complete you. Steve could feel your smile against his lips.
You pulled away. "Did you wish that I was dessert instead of the cake?
"I might have. Should we make my wish come true?"
Again you smiled, bright and guiding like a lighthouse torch, and something in your demeanor changed. Instantly, you were relenting to his touch, letting him pull you further into his lap, straddling his waist and settling into him like that was where you were meant to be. The quiet house, probably as old as him in this New England town, creaked in the silence of the night, only occasionally disturbed by the bang of a firework. But it all faded away with you in his arms.
You fit perfectly, just as Steve had hoped.
"You gonna be gentle with me, big man?" you whispered, that same brilliant smile on your face, wiggling as close to him as possible, the fingers of one hand tangled into the hair at the nape of his neck, the others tracing down the point of his sharp nose and pressing against his soft lips. "You gonna fuck me good? Be a good boy?"
Oh, Christ. Steve nearly lost his mind with your hips so tight against his, lost it at your words that made his heart race and color rise to his cheeks. He could be good. Really damn good. You seemed to know something about him that Steve didn't even know about himself, of how much he liked your praise, your commanding tone. If there was anything he was good at, it was taking orders.
"You just keep telling me what to do and I'm all yours," he mumbled against your fingers, the thump of his heart beating in time with yours somewhere deep in your chest, echoes of one another in the silence of the house. Your hand came to grip his chin, pushing another kiss against his mouth, a kiss with lips parted in a sigh, the mingled palate of you and him, like a glass of wine on the beach and chocolate melted on the tongue, sweeping over taste buds and breathed into starved lungs.
"Mm, you taste so good. Like you were created just for me, don't you think?" you asked.
"Built from the best material, just for you." Built to love you, he wanted to say. Steve shut up instead.
You hummed with pleasure and the hand on his chin gripped a little harder, a little more suggestively. He opened his mouth obediently as you slipped your thumb between his lips, and he let you press it against the soft muscle of his tongue. You wanted him to taste you, so he did, his teeth biting gently down on the pad of your finger, another pleasant hum running down your body and straight to his groin.
He waited for your instruction.
"Undress me."
He complied, obediently. Steve's large hands hiked your sundress up around your waist, revealing the softness of your hips. His fingers smoothed up the length of your thighs, kneading at the flesh of your ass that he had so longed to touch. Your reaction was music to his ears, a soft moan leaving your lips and breathed against his, and Steve closed his eyes, arousal spreading through his body at the thought that he was making you react this way. His length hardened, tight in his pants, pressed against the thin layer of fabric that covered the heat of your core. The thought that he might not fit flickered through his mind but it dissipated at the feeling of your fingers pressing into the rough stubble of his jawline.
Steve's hands continued to travel further up your body, taking time to release the zipper of your dress down the length of your spine, and you answered his quiet, "can I?" by pulling slightly away and lifting your arms over your head. The dress landed somewhere in the kitchen and Steve dragged you close again, arms wrapped around your back to encompass you completely, his lips finding purchase against the skin of your neck.
"Look at you, so perfect," Steve mumbled, face pressed into your hair. If he had looked up he would have seen you blush, but he was too preoccupied letting his senses discover every piece of you he could touch, smell, or taste. He wanted to envelop you, inch by inch, roaming and discovering and satiating his curiosity, but you dragged his attention back to your face.
"Hey, eyes up here," you said, pulling his face toward yours and locking gazes. The intensity of your eye contact was stunning, but there was something else behind those eyes, something other than intense attraction and unsatisfied arousal. Was it doubt? Insecurity? The reason why you kissed him for so many nights and never asked for more? You were searching for something, and it came in the form of a question. "You won't leave me after this, right?"
There it was, the bit of insecurity, a fear of loss, of transience, of lacking control. Someone had hurt you before. Maybe that's why you approached everything in life with such ferocity and sincerity. But Steve would never hurt you like that, never let you feel that way again. He hoped you could see it in his eyes the way he felt about you, but words would be more reassurance. "I'm yours tonight. And tomorrow. And the day and week and month and year after that, if you'll have me that long. Whatever it is you need, I'll give it to you."
You blinked and then smiled and pressed another quick kiss to his lips before murmuring, "touch me" against them. So he did, trailing his hands over every sliver of skin before him. He felt the goosebumps rising in their wake, the downy hair on your legs and arms, the heat of your core against him, grinding almost imperceptibly to find some kind of friction, any friction. He wanted to touch you so desperately, but he got the sense that you needed to take the lead, that it would give the control you felt you lacked. So he slid a hand down the plane of your stomach and stopped just shy of dipping into your panties, waiting for your word. But you were no longer interested in playing games. Your hand found his and pulled him lower, using his fingers to press into the seem of your cunt, and he found you slick and warm with desire.
You urged him forward. "Rub my clit, baby. Slowly. Gently."
Slowly and gently. That he could do. His fingers crept absentmindedly closer to the swollen bundle of nerves and when he landed there, touch soft and circling, you jerked against him, your whole body moving with the force of anticipation and a cry leaving your lips. And though it seemed to burn, seemed to be torture for yourself, you demanded he do it again. Your forehead leaned against his, eyes shut tight, and Steve watched as your face contorted in pleasure as he flicked and circled again and again and again.
"Yes, baby. Perfect. So good. So. Fucking. Good."
Every bit of you was soft, from your neck where he placed his kisses to the curled hair hiding the swollen bud of your clit where his fingers played gently and rhythmically. Even the orgasm that gushed from your smooth cunt and stuttered from your lips was soft. You came with a choked cry as your hand pulled him closer by the back of his head, your tits pressed to his chest. Steve looked up to watch you devolve into pleasure, eyes squeezed tightly shut, your hair messy and swirling about your face, the straps of your bra slipping from your shoulder.
"Bed. Now. Right now," you demanded before you even had a chance to come down from your high. He would have been just as happy to have you in the kitchen, just like that, but Steve picked you up, with you latched to his chest like a koala, and carried you upstairs. You felt feather-light in his arms, easily tossed onto the mattress, your hands reaching out to pull his white t-shirt overhead and grab at the plane of his chest. Even as Steve kissed you again you couldn't stop tracing your fingertips over the lines of his torso, the ridges of his abs, the v-line that led tantalizingly toward the waistband of his pants. He felt his cock twitch and strain against the fabric of his boxers, the rough cotton not enough to stimulate him but enough to make him ache for your pussy. Your fluttering hands were not helping and Steve pictured your thin fingers wrapping around his length.
"Look at you," you said. "You're fucking perfect." It was Steve's turn to blush.
Steve wasn't...inexperienced. But it had been a while, to say the least, since he'd had the time or energy or capacity to even feel attracted to anyone. And even longer, perhaps never, since he felt the way he felt about you, like a bee to a flower, drunk on sweet nectar and high on honey. That was you, the delicate flower, so small and tender beneath him, yet as stunning and resonating and thunderous as the fireworks bursting somewhere overhead.
Fighting to survive was all Steve had known for so long, standing up to the bully and helping the fallen to their feet, that it was a relief to not have to be that man for you. You didn't require protection or help or anything from him at all, and yet you welcomed his presence endlessly. Steve realized he was not a need for you, but a want, and for the first time he felt valued for something real, something that wasn't just his brute strength, but something almost bordering on love. This he understood as he stared at your sweet face, caging you beneath him in bed.
"Earth to Steve," you said softly as your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling his pelvis down toward yours and dragging a deep groan from his lungs. He hadn't noticed he'd stopped kissing you and was getting lost in drinking you in amidst his reverie until your small hand pressed to the back of his neck and gently guided him back to your lips. But you stopped just shy, your eyebrows knitted in concern, taking his leisurely manner for uncertainty. "We can stop if you want."
"No, definitely not."
"Good. Then stop staring and kiss me."
"Where?" he teased.
"Everywhere, big man."
Everywhere was doable. So he started at your lips with one so big and breathless it rivaled Mount Everest. For a moment he let himself forget about everything except how long he could go without oxygen against your lips. But there remained more of you to taste.
Steve's lips connected with your chin and slid down your jawline, taking time to kiss the pulse of your neck and the dip of your clavicle. The fan of his breath tickled across your skin and you giggled, the purest sound of joy bubbling from your lips at his touch. More of that he wanted. So he continued down to the valley between your breasts, full and round despite your stature, removing your bra as he did so, nibbling lightly at the peaks of your chest before replacing his teeth with his pinching fingers and moving lower again. Lower toward the edge of your ribs, arched upward to meet the movement of his mouth, toward the slope of your hips, his sharp nose following each kiss as your underwear joined your bra into the abyss.
Your thighs he kissed, top to bottom, left and right, but it was your ass he couldn't get enough of, filling his grip with handfuls of your flesh, using it to pull you toward the edge of the bed where he kneeled, lifting your hips toward his face, your legs slung one over each shoulder. Steve sunk his tongue into your folds without warning and you gasped, your thighs suddenly squeezing tight around his head.
"Yes, right there," you hissed between ragged breaths.
He responded by burying deeper, gripping you harder, and moaning with delight at your overwhelming taste and scent bombarding his senses. You squirmed but didn't pull away as Steve's hands worked their way back up your stomach to cup the tissue of your breasts, the width of his palms capturing the flesh in one big handful. Your hands covered his, holding them there, forcing him to press you into the bed while his mouth left you twitching and bucking beneath his touch.
And in spite of the urgency with which Steve wished to devour you, he continued on leisurely, doing his best to build you up slowly and gently pick you apart bit by bit the way you had asked him to do it before. Your body betrayed its delight, evidenced enough by the way your legs hooked around him and held him down, but you praised him anyways, rapture falling from your lips between sporadic moans of pleasure.
"Fuck, Steve, you're so good, oh God yes, baby, you're doing so good, taste me like that," you cried, and the words spurred him onward, hurried his movements just slightly, his tongue circling your clit, fingers circling your areolas. He would do whatever you asked, jump off a cliff, take a bullet to the chest, drown himself in a river, if only to please you. But you would never ask anything of him that he couldn't give, and Steve knew the moment you asked for his heart it would be his heart you'd receive. And with that intent in his mind, he made you come undone with a silent cry.
Eventually, the trembling ceased, even as he continued to drink your release with the ministrations of his tongue.
"Oh fuck, you like the way I taste baby?" you asked. His affirmation came out muffled and sloppy between your legs. Even you were breathless, barely getting out the words, but you pushed him nonetheless. "I wanna hear you say it, Steve. You like eating me out? Like drinking my juices?"
"Fuck, yes, you taste like goddamn heaven, darling."
"Kiss me, Steve."
"Yes, ma'am."
He complied without a second thought, crawling back up your body to lean over you, giving you a taste of the heaven he had just dipped into. When your fingers found his belt, he helped you remove the rest of his clothes. And then your hands were roving down his chest again, searching blindly until they found what they were looking for. Steve groaned at your touch on his swollen cock.
You gasped. "Oh, God."
Before Steve could respond you pushed him over onto his back and straddled his thighs, eyeing the length on display before you, fingers around it as if testing the girth and finding them unable to wrap all the way around.
"Oh God," you repeated. A short laugh bubbled up from your throat, the controlling front you'd managed to maintain this whole time slipping from your tone.
"Something wrong?" he asked, feeling slightly inadequate under your scrutiny. Steve sat up to meet your eyes, hands finding their place on your hips.
You gazed at him, eyes wide and glassy. "You're gonna split me in half with that thing."
"We don't have to. Not if you aren't comfortable."
"Oh baby, I'm gonna get real comfortable sitting on your cock." Your sultry grin was back and you rose up on your knees to look down at him. Your other hand swiped between your legs, two fingers gathering the warm, wet juices of your orgasm, before joining the first around his cock. You pumped, rolling a drop of precum off the tip with your thumb and rubbing it down his length, mixing the release of your pleasure with his. Steve barely held back from bucking his hips into your hand. He would save that for your pussy.
"I want you to fill me," you whispered. "I wanna be so fucking full. Just go slowly, okay?"
"Slowly. I got you, baby girl. You can take me. Let me fill you."
Steve lifted your hips and guided you forward, aligning your entrance with his length. You moved at a crawling pace, letting gravity sink your pussy around him, pausing every inch to adjust to his intrusion. His biceps stung with the grip of your fingernails in his skin, but it was a welcome distraction from the rush of pleasure threatening to tip him over the edge prematurely. Agonizingly you dipped further, a cry falling from your lips, until you were fully seated, the tip of him pressed into the cavity behind your cervix. You were warm, so, so warm, and soft and tight and you fit perfectly, just like he knew you would.
"Fuck, Steve, you're so big."
"Am I hurting you?" he asked, wiping away a tear from your cheek with his thumb.
"No, fuck, no, you feel so good. I just--I can't move."
"I got you, darling," Steve whispered, his face falling to your chest and burying it in the soft flesh of your tits. And then he wrapped his arms around your waist and did all the moving for you, lifting you up and sinking you down again, just fast enough to make you gasp for air and whine his name. With every thrust, you cried out in pleasure.
"Don't stop, Steve, please, baby, don't stop."
The fingers of one hand tugged at his hair dampened by sweat, nails scratching lightly across his scalp, as the other fell between your legs. You pressed your fingers around your clit and along your entrance, feeling where Steve's thick cock was pushing in and out of your tight pussy, feeling how big he was, how much he filled you. The meandering touch of your fingers almost sent him straight over the edge.
But it was the slick warmth of your cunt that was too much, and Steve found himself resting his forehead more and more heavily against your chest, willing himself to give you everything you wanted before he even thought about himself. The satin scent of your skin, like talcum and rose and his cologne, intoxicated him with every breath, and he sucked and nibbled on one breast and then the other, mindlessly attending to the most sensitive parts of you. A drop of sweat rolled down your sternum and Steve chased it with his tongue, licking a warm stripe up the center of your chest.
"Tell me what you need, darling."
"Fuck, that's perfect," you whined. "You fuck me so good, baby. Don't stop. Gonna make me come--make me come so hard."
Your fingers pressed against your clit once more and then you were clenching around him, your already tight pussy settling into a pulsing vice grip, your body shaking against his while he kissed the sweat from your collar bones. Steve felt you pumping the life out of him, riding out your orgasm and dragging him closer to his. The hand that had been on your clit moved to cup the weight of his balls, pinching and massaging as they pulled in heavy with the need for release.
"Where do you want me, darling, you gotta tell me."
You practically ordered him to come inside you, told him you wanted to feel him sticky between your thighs all night and it was suddenly Steve's turn to come undone, his hot seed pumping deep inside you, his twitching member finally finding release. He moaned your name against your lips, pulling you into a final searing kiss.
When, after a good twenty minutes of not moving from that position, of breathing heavy and kissing softly, you finally pulled away to lean down and lick his cock clean, the sticky mingling of you and him on your tongue, and he had to fight the urge to get hard again. And when you kissed him again, he tasted that mingling, two souls becoming one, as they were meant to be.
He slept next to you for the first time that night, your small frame encased in his, even though there was no need to share body heat in the dead of summer. But he actually slept, no dreams, no nightmares, no waking up in the middle of the night. Just deep, heavy sleep, your head tucked beneath his chin, back to his bare chest, his hands holding your breasts, and your hands holding his. Tangled together. Souls as one.
#steve rodgers x reader#steve rogers#captain america#captain america x reader#avengers smut#captain america smut#steve rogers smut#simping for steve rogers#steve rogers fanfiction#captain america fanfiction
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Do you think Clarke's one of those people who steals food from other people's plates when they don't think they're watching?
absolutely. and i think bellamy actually loves it.
you know after everything settles down, say when she comes back from her three months after mount weather and they actually manage to build the camp without all the bs, he notices that she's lost so much weight.
it looks unhealthy.
he knows that he's not been eating much either, that he's been favoring his moonshine more than the rations Monty always shoves in his hands but he doesn't consider it a big deal.
he never ate much anyway, you know. he was never a food person, it was how his life went and it hadn't changed with time.
it takes clarke months to get better, she stays close to her mom and their relationship is very tentative to say the very least.
he's not great at talking and he's still angry but with time that slowly starts fading away.
he spends a lot of time in the garden he and monty have been growing. since jasper's too drunk and sad to help out it's mostly him and miller who do the heavy work and bellamy found himself enjoying it a lot.
he often does most of the work while monty and miller kiss in the bushes nearby and he pretends he's not seeing it even though inside he's happy and even a little jealous.
one night he overhears kane and abby talk about clarke; he was coming in from a guard shift and as usually he had to report to kane, give in his weapon and arrange the next round for tomorrow or the whole week; often time kane asked hi out to stay they drank moonshine and talked some and bellamy knew the older man was doing it for him, because he could see how much he hurt;
but lately every time he came by he could hear kane talk to abby; she's been a frequient visitor in his office and bellamy wasn't missing the soft looks or smiles they exchanged but just like with monty and miller, he kept quiet;
"she's barely eating and she only sleeps when im holding her." he hears abby say, her voice breaking a little "i dont know what to do. i thought getting her back would fix everything but i just feel...helpless now."
"we'll get her there, don't worry, it'll just take time." kane promises and bellamy peaks through the crack of the door watching as kane held abby in his arms and rubbed her back "she'll be okay."
"if she keeps it that way, she'll get herself sick." abby whispers fearfully and that makes bellamy's heart skip a few beats;
so after that night he decides to take matters into his own hands-he starts picking up the cucumbers and tomatoes from the garden and he cuts them off in a special way, adds seasoning, some oil and brings it over to clarke while she's working on some blueprints about extending the camp's permeter.
"what's that?"
"just salad."
"just salad??" she asks confused "why?"
"Monty and I are trying out these new seeds and we want to know which ones are the best so we can keep them for next year." he lies, knowing she'll never take it otherwise "We're letting people try them out." Clarke raises her eyebrows but he's gone before she can argue and when she mindlessly picks at the tomato later on she finds that she loves it;
then he digs out the potatoes, fries them and seasons them for her, adds the jerky he got from his own ration and brings it to her late one evening;
then there's carrots mixed with sweet apples and some raspberries which may sound awful but it's actually a great combination for breakfast;
he slowly brings her back to eating, to loving it, to life; so much that clarke wouldn't take anything from the kitchen and wait for bellamy to bring her something he cooked himself;
later on when they get together, she's the type of person to steal half his fries while he's not looking and he smiles when she does so, happy to be pretending that he's oblivious to it all;
the only other time clarke's barely eating is when she first gets pregnant with their son and bellamy feels like no matter what he gives her, he's failing because she wouldn't touch it and she starts losing weight again;
he's silly enough not to know that her body just needed some time and when a few weeks pass, he comes home to her so hungry she's munching on a piece of old somewhat molded bread and he laughs when he sees her because she looks like a starving predator;
months later when they hold Gus in their arms and he's feeding off of her eagerly, bellamy chuckles and leans down to kiss her lips;
"One thing's for sure-that kid's gonna be a foodie like his mom."
it earns him a slap on the shoulder and a pouty look from her but he kisses it away and boops her nose while gus munches eagerly on his mom's breast and smacks as loudly as clarke did when she ate bellamy's potatoes;
thebestofbellarke: Fic prompts: to AUs and beyond
#bellarke#bellarke fanfiction#thebestofbellarke#fuckyeahbellarke#bellarke headcanons#bellamy blake#clarke griffin#answered#hope you dont mind i added this as a celebration post#my writing
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I don't even know you! (Izuku Midoriya x Fem!villain Reader)
Part one: Tuer
Tuer
verb
kill
murder
(A/N): do not expect this to become a normal thing lol, I have the attention span of a six year old child. Anyways I've always wanted to try writing fanfic so here we are, also I included my favorite tropes in this (most of which I love way too much) but if I like this I might actually finish it and include the others. I'm going to stop myself before I continue talking too much lmao. I'm back after writing to say this is just under 1k words-
!Series Warnings!
(Angst, amnesia, pregnancy, language, implied sex ig?, Deku being how I think he would be in this situation, lies, fighting, violence, yelling, drugs)
Readers pronouns and quirk: (she/her) and matter manipulation allowing the reader to manipulate any and all matter including cells, DNA, and much more.
*
*
Life sucks.
Most people my age at least had a stable carer. Hell even my "friends" have stable lives,, families, jobs, you name it, they have it.
Yet here I am in a grimy alleyway on the run, mentally unstable, and on the verge of killing the whole block. But hey im doing much better than most would be in my current situation. I don't think I will ever understand just why he gets his happy ending while I know I will be moving the rest of my life, tormented by his smile on the tv, but he gets his happily ever fucking after because that how the world rewards those deemed heroes.
It's not I don't want some of the things the universe has thrown at me not so gracefully. I could still hear his yells, the way he was accusing me, acting as though I punched him.
This is what I get for thinking the world would finally have mercy on me.
Nope.
Nope.
Nope.
Drenched in the rain finally getting over the initial shock the possibly life changing discovery had forced on me. I threw the the small test in the dumpster that clung against the brick apartment wall.
I wonder if its already kicked in. scoffing I knew it had. it had been two days after all. its funny how much can change so quickly.
One minute we were planning to get married and this news would have caused his face to light up in pure joy, but now? oh boy, now he doesn't remember me, what I've done, our fight.
The images as if on cue flash through my mind.
*
"You liar!" y/n scoffed at him
"I'm not a liar? I never lied about anything"
It was his turn to scoff now. His green and worn out hair hitting his matching eyes because of how fast he turned to the person he once referred to as "the love of his life" but not now all he could see now was a monster.
"you lied about who you were! where you came from! your motives! hell you probably lied about loving me! you probably just used me to get close to the heroes and spill their secrets!"
"I would never lied about loving you!" her voice and calm facade breaking at his accusations.
"I have to take you in" all the emotion and heasitation left his voice.
"what?"
"you heard me villain scum" y/n flinched at the term.
"I don't want to fight you Izuku. just let me go."
"afraid I can't do that, people like you need to be punished for all your wrong-doings."
"fine, guess we are doing this the hard way"
y/n knew she would not get away if he had anything to say about it. fighting everything that told her to go easy on the one she loved she knew he wouldn't go easy on her, so why should she?
At the end of it all he was under her. "Im sorry Deku but I can't let you take me in"
"get off me y/n!"
He was still growling out insults and pleas to be let go when she did it. Resting the palm of her hand on his head, her quirk manipulating gravity keeping him in place she closed her eyes searching his mind for what she wanted. every single memory containing her. "You may forget me but its for the best" she whispered. Then it went black. She could almost feel the memories slipping away and had to push herself out the door.
*
Years of love, devotion, heartache, for what? Nothing beside a child whose father doesn't remember shit. Of course i'm the only one to blame if you think about it. I choose to kill all of those people, I chose my path. I thought it was different with Izuku. I thought it was in the past, that damn traitor. I knew I couldn't trust him, but toga assured me he was good, trustworthily not a rat. He was and will forever be. Just like i will become a faded memory, if I knew anything about heroes it's that they hate unnecessary publicity. Hence why I know the general public won't have anything against me.
*
{With cucumber boy}
"He's been out for two fucking days what did she even do to him!" Todoroki shouted as Deku became conscious for the first time in two days. the poor boy not even knowing how he need up there. "We don't know Mr. Todoroki, we couldn't find anything wrong with him" the other man responded. Midoriya opened my eyes to see Shouto waving the doctor off in annoyance. "Shouto?" Todoroki opened his eyes at his name
"Holy shit Deku youre awake I thought she put you in a deep coma" he visibly relaxed. "im going to assume we lost?" the boy laughed at his own comment trying to cut through the clear tension. Todoroki sighed "Yeah, no trace of her in days, but we will get her and bring her to justice for hurting all of those innocent people." he concluded patting Izukus shoulder in a comforting manner.
"can you refresh my memory? I don't remember who we were fighting" the red and white haired man tensed again.
"You don't remember?" Izuku shook my head. Only causing him to tense more. "It was y/n we found out what she had done and you insisted on confronting her?" he said unsurely as if the green eyed boy should remember this like you remember to breathe.
"I don't even know a y/n" Deku giggled at his friends stupid assumption. It was stupid, right?
#deku midoriya#shoto todoroki#reader x bnha#reader x deku#villian reader#bnha#mha#izuku midoriya#izuku midoria x reader#mha deku#x reader#x villain reader#deku#angst#x reader angst
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