#i haven't proofed this

[notroosterbradshaw]

warm blood

FULL FIC HERE.

The sound that escaped Rooster’s lips as you dragged your nails through his unruly sunkissed curls had you cackling. “Rooster Bradshaw, you need a girlfriend,” you decided.

“I don’t need a girlfriend; I just need to get laid,” he protested, realising how pitiful he sounded and then adding softly, “Please don’t stop. That feels so fuckin’ good. It’s like the most physical contact I’ve had in...” his eyes fluttered closed and took a deep, satisfied pull of his beer. He didn’t want to admit how long it had been since someone had touched him like that.

Continuing to press your fingertips into his scalp, his shoulders dropped, completely melting in your touch. “This must be the longest dry spell you’ve ever had,” you reckoned quietly.

“Feels like it,” he said dismally.

“How long?” you dared ask.

“It’s goin’ with me to the grave, don’t ask stupid questions,” he muttered in reply as you hide your grin with a sip of your beer. He turned back to you and made a face; he’d let pretences lie. “Maybe you’re right, I just need a girlfriend.”

“Rooster, you have no trouble finding someone to fuck… why are you off your game? Why don’t you go drag all the single ladies in with a song or something?” you suggested, hoping to perk him up. He shook his head. Honestly, he didn’t need to sit at the piano to have all eyes on him. At any point of the night, you’d look up and find some poor soul caught staring.

“Naw,” he didn’t feel like the spectacle tonight.

“Want me to wing woman for you?” you offered. “Babe on the other side of the bar. Tall, curvy...” you chewed your own lip.

“You’d do that?” he asked, honestly touched.

“Of course. I can’t deal with you when you’re being a whiny little bitch. If it means you get your cock wet, I’m here for you, pal.”

He laughed quietly as you asked him how you looked. He gave you a once over and frowned. “Beautiful, but are you trying to get laid, or am I?”

"I swore off your kind, any kind, as a New Year’s resolution. I want the year to myself,” you grandstanded, and he chuckled.

“You’ll be begging for sex soon enough,” he straightened, glaring at you out of the side of his hazel eyes and took another long slug of his beer.

“I’ve got toys, I’ve got fingers,” you reminded him, reaching for him with grabby hands as he bit back a grin and leaned away from you.

“You fuckin’ deviant,” he joked. It was untrue, but he loved to tease you… and you loved when he teased you too.

“Hey. If I want to find someone to share my time with, I won’t hesitate to break that resolution if I need to. They’re made to be broken anyway,” you shrugged casually.

He nodded, not disagreeing. “I’m sick of my hands,” he muttered as you took the hand that rested on his quad and cupped it in your own. You didn’t know why, he brought it up and they were just there begging to be held. He laughed quietly and gripped your palm back. “I just miss the warmth, you know?”

Putting the back of his hand to your cheek, he laughed again. You gave him the eyes, and he sighed.

“Don’t start. Knock it off immediately.”

“No, tell me exactly what you miss. Tell me what you need.” You settled in. You would love to know what turned Rooster Bradshaw on. He wasn’t like the other guys – he kept his conquests quiet. Lowkey. Sure, you knew when he was in the game, he made no secret of his intentions. But gee, he always seemed more complicated than an easy fuck kinda guy.

“You don’t need to hear about any of that stuff,” he rolled his eyes and retrieved his hand, stuffing it back in his jeans pocket. “Trust me, you’ll be just like me soon enough.”

“Look, if you get to a point you’re absolutely desperate, blue from top to toe, I’ll drop my standards for a night and give you a night you won’t forget, okay?” you tried to bite back the laugh that bubbled under the surface. You weren’t surprised he gave you the bird in response. “You’re just lazy. Go lay a line on any woman in here, and I guarantee, she will be putty in your hands.”

It seemed like such a nut-up or shut-up order, Rooster knew he had no choice but to follow through. Standing to his height and adjusting to his posture, he muttered, “Fine,” he stole your fresh beer as you protested and wandered over to the gorgeous woman, who if truth be told, was exactly his usual type, you’d pointed out only moments earlier. Well, what was expected to be his type - that glint in her eye that told him he wouldn’t have to work too hard to get her number either. He had a rule that one-night stands were never at his place. He’d rather sneak out than kick someone out. Win-win really.

[canisalbus]

Oh a little fluffy gold puppy looking up at the scary man in the portrait their father keeps in his office... 🥺

[sincerelybubbles]

"spence?"

"hm?"

"when did you get home?"

a more awake you would be squealing, thoroughly excited he came home early from his trip, but the early hours have hardly begun to bring light and you're struggling to even open your eyes to look at him. your cheeks still widen into a pleased smile though, turning into his warmth and humming, confused, when your hands find the rough fabric of his coat.

"a few hours ago," he says, voice rough, eyes still shut. one arm across his eyes, blocking the minuscule light, the other a vice around your waist. his voice is slow, deep in his chest, caught on the sleep he obviously wishes to keep. but he still turns his face toward the sound of your voice, smile creeping up at the corners of his lips, willing to entertain you despite his fatigue.

"are you still wearing your shoes?" you ask, voice teasing, scooting up in his arm to nudge your nose against the curve of his jaw. you press a kiss there, the point where his bone hits a right angle, lips tingling from the stubble you find.

"no," he says, voice honest, "i know better than that."

"no shoes, but your belt is still on?" you tease, fingers dragging across the leather. you don't care, not beyond a genuine concern for his comfort, but you enjoy teasing him in this way, skimming your lips across the rough skin of his chin in not-quite kisses.

"i took my gun off," he complains in a half-hearted groan, lifting his arm to peek at you out of the corner of one eye. "hi," he says, voice still soft, somehow deeper with affection, dimples the star of the show on his cheeks.

"hi," you say, tilting your head back and lifting your arm to cart your fingers through his mess of hair. "welcome home."

he smiles, reaching around with his other arm to gather you up and drag you across his chest in a bear hug, chuckling at the squeal you let out, sighing against your hair. he presses a firm kiss there, right above your ear.

"we will have to wash the sheets, though. it was really gross for me to not change, i was just exhausted, sorry."

[uncanny-tranny]

Basically, my philosophy around disability fakers is: I would rather a thousand people fake a disability than have one disabled person suffer without care, aids, compassion, or any help.

[evercelle]

2024 art summary! it sure has been a year

[teastainedprose]

Mark You Pretty (Homelander x Reader)

My brain saw this post and ran with it. Homelander bruises you. 13k words, Homelander x GN!reader (Warnings for bruising, mild Sadism/masochistic play)

The first time Homelander bruises you, it's an honest mistake. He didn't mean to grab you that hard. Not really. Sometimes Homelander forgets how delicate normal people can be. It had been a reflexive thing, snatching you about the arm just above your wrist as you reach over him to gather up the handouts from the meeting.

"Leave it," Homelander mutters with eyes still fixated on the stack of papers set before him, gloves creaking as he briefly tightens his grip on your arm before releasing you. The small gasp you make as you withdraw doesn't penetrate his concentration. He doesn't notice how you rub at your arm, expression pinching up while stepping away. You're another faceless worker bee and Homelander has no time for you. The meeting is over and you shuffle out with the other nameless non-supe Vought employees. His attention is back to the paperwork in front of him, mind buzzing on how to handle the downswing in public opinion on The Seven. You're forgotten as Homelander turns back to the task of being Homelander.

He doesn't even register that he hurt you until the next day. It's the top you're wearing that does it. Long sleeved and out of season, which draws his attention to you for the second time this week. He registers the blooming bruise peeking out from under your sleeve when you bend over to offer handouts about the table. He blinks, clocking the imprint as a mirror of his gloved grip. There's no guilt associated with this realization, simply an understanding of the connection. He did that to you. Homelander marred your pretty skin with a bloom of purple where he grabbed you. Suddenly, it's satisfaction that's coiling in his gut. He likes how you wear his mark.

For better or worse, now he notices you.

Homelander lets his eyes wander up your arm, snagging briefly on your ample chest before flicking across your face. You instantly look away, unable or unwilling to meet his gaze. Cute. He smirks as he takes you in. You're a charming enough little thing. A bit too skittish for his taste, but the bruise he left on you keeps drawing Homelander's eyes back over and over again.

For the entirety of the meeting, Homelander lets his attention wander to you while his eyes roam your form. He's shameless with the ogling and never looks away when you catch him at it. No, he's only further pleased by it. He makes sure to catch your eye as his lips curl up and part slightly, his tongue poking at the corner of his mouth. That gets a blush across your cheeks and you're quick to break eye contact. This only amuses Homelander further and galvanizes him to find further ways to unsettle you throughout the meeting. You are his distraction to make this presentation a little less dull.

The meeting ends and Homelander puts you from his mind once more as soon as you walk out the conference room doors. You're nothing but a passing amusement, something to play with at the next meeting perhaps. He's already letting the image of your blush and the bruise he left on your skin fade from his thoughts before something catches in Homelander's ear later that day as he strides down the hallway.

There are many curious sounds within Vought Tower and Homelander has heard plenty. People whispering secrets across phone lines and into ears. Muffled moans of employees sneaking off to empty conference rooms or even broom closets for salacious rendezvous. The one that catches him now? It's soft, more a quiet exhale with a moan undercutting the sound. He blinks, pausing to look towards where the sound came from. It's your office Homelander finds himself standing outside as he cocks his head to the side. He watches you as you sit at your desk, clearly not thinking yourself observed. X-ray vision lets him watch as you press two fingers into the bruise he left on you, teeth sinking into your bottom lip to hold back that noise. You moan again all the same, your enjoyment evident as your face twists into a brief flash of pleasure.

Oh, isn't that interesting?

Now Homelander's fascination with you ignites. His eyes seek yours constantly throughout every business meeting the two of you find yourselves in now. He's prone to stepping too close and invading your personal space whenever Homelander comes across you, which has jumped in frequency. He even has the gall to hook his pinky on the sleeve of your shirt one day, tugging it up enough to check if the bruise is still there. By then the purple has faded to a duller, splotchy green. His mark is almost gone and Homelander finds he doesn't like that one bit.

The second time Homelander bruises you, it is very intentional. 

He's bolder the second week. Homelander deliberately holds you back after one meeting with a flimsy excuse. Those massive doors ominously shutting close after everyone else has filed out. Now you're trapped inside the conference room with him. It makes your pulse skitter with terror, which is an utter delight to Homelander. He can smell the fear off of you. A heady scent that stirs a primal need within him because it's mingled with your arousal as well. That fact alone has a smirk on Homelander's lips as he approaches you, hands clasped behind his back and under his cape as he leisurely strolls over. Normally, such posture would be non-threatening but on Homelander it's anything but.

It's a terrifying sight yet compelling. Homelander is ever the perfect superhero in looks. Vought's true golden boy that you and countless others privately swoon over in the break room despite his reputation. yet even you have learned that Homelander isn't the squeaky clean supe he's portrayed as. The looming trial only adds further credit to the rumors that circulate about him. Still, it's thrilling, and you may be a little too into the danger Homelander represents. You can't help the anticipation coiling in your belly as you watch him stalk closer.

He traps you there against the wall, shifting as he places a palm flat against it. You stare at his chest as Homelander slides his hand down, lifting it to cup your chin to tilt your gaze up to meet his own. "Er, you wanted to talk sir?" You manage to push the words out, flushing at the tremor in your voice. He smiles and those too sharp canines flash. You shiver, eyes wide as you meet the clear blue of his gaze.

"You bruise easily, don't you?" Homelander muses, his hand on your chin shifting to stroke down your cheek before moving to your neck. Electric heat shoots up your spine from the chaste caress, the leather of his gloves smooth against your skin. His fingers curl around your throat as you feel his thumb ghost over your pulse point. Your breath hitches at the subtle threat but then he's sliding his hand down to tighten his fingers about your shoulder. Homelander digs his thumb in just below your collarbone to the point of pain as he watches you intently.

You hiss in response, eyes squeezing shut before you huff out a sound. It’s not a pained noise. An echo of the sound he’d heard by chance last week. He eases up, a knowing look on his face as you open your eyes again.The scent of your fear lesses, while your arousal fills his nostrils. You like the pain. He smirks all the wider while leaning in to ghost his lips over your cheek. 

"I didn't mean to hurt you." Homelander rumbles out, breath a hot caress against your skin. For the other day or just now? You don't know which he's apologizing for and there's not much time to ponder over that because Homelander's lips are against your own in the next breath.

His mouth against your is Homelander's sort of apology, more for him than you but you enjoy it all the same.

[sysig]

Strictly professional showering (Patreon)

[the-broken-pen]

“I’ve never used a gun before,” the hero swallowed, mouth dry. They had never needed to, but now—

The villain’s head lolled over to look at them. A lazy grin spread across their face.

“Don’t worry,” they held the hero’s gaze, unflinching. “I have.”

The gun went off. Across the room, one of their enemies dropped, blood splattering against the wall.

Still, the villain didn’t break eye contact, content to shoot without looking. They hit their target every time, but still—

“Can you please look where you’re pointing that thing?”

“Why,” the villain tipped their head, and that shit eating grin was back, “Am I making you nervous, hero?”

The hero grimaced as the villain sent another target sprawling onto the floor. Surely they had to run out of ammo eventually?

When the hero didn’t respond, the villain laughed.

“Oh, I am. Well, that’s adorable, frankly.”

The hero flinched at the next gunshot, and the villain nodded their head towards the hero’s gun. “If you were to—and bear with me this is a crazy idea—help me, this would be over with way faster.”

The hero looked down to their gun, shifting it side to side in their hands. It didn’t look all that hard. Point, aim, shoot. They could do that, right?

They lifted their gun, aiming at the nearest combatant—

The villain slid to a stop next to them, tsking, and their hand settled onto the hero’s gun too quickly for them to see. “Not-no not quite like that,” they hummed in the hero’s ear, and though they couldn’t see their face, the hero knew they were amused. 

The hero’s jaw clenched with irritation.

“First,” the villain murmured, far too close, “Safety needs to be off.” They clicked something on the hero’s gun, repositioning the hero’s hands as they did. “Second,” they continued, and the hero shivered. “Don’t aim at me, love. You like me too much to kill me.”

“You’re awfully sure about that.”

The villain half rested their chin on the hero’s shoulder, batting their eyes. Their free arm jerked up, firing a shot behind them at someone who had evidently gotten too close to the two of them.

“I am,” they grinned. Their hand rested over the hero’s once more. “Now, aim,” they guided the hero’s hand towards the nearest enemy. Their finger slipped over the hero’s on the trigger. “And shoot.” They pulled down on the trigger, trapping the hero’s finger underneath theirs, so when the gun fired, they fired it together. The hero winced.

It was louder than the hero had thought it would be.

Across the room, the body dropped.

“Good,” the villain praised, voice low, and something stirred in the hero’s chest. “Again, love.”

They guided the hero through the motions once more.

By the time there was no one left to fight, the villain was staring at them with a look they couldn’t decipher. It was all encompassing. Hungry. Wild.

The hero cleared their throat, and the villain smirked like they knew what the hero was doing.

They eyed the hero, still with that look on their face.

“God, you’re pretty with a gun in your hand,” the villain cursed. They stepped closer. The hero didn’t move, holding their breath as the villain wiped a splattering of blood off their face. “Pretty covered in blood, too, but that might be a bit too insane for you, hm?”

The hero’s face went hot. It wasn’t, they thought. They wanted to kiss the villain so badly they worried it might be a sickness, twisting their mind, something terminal. But still, that smile—

The villain stepped away. They scanned the hero’s blushing face, and grinned harder at whatever they saw.

Gently, they took the gun from the hero’s hands, vanishing it behind their back.

“The next time you need someone to show you how to shoot, give me a call,” they nodded towards the hero’s hands. “I wouldn’t want someone else touching my hero, now would I?”

The hero couldn’t stop the smile that spread across their face.

The villain winked, stepped back, and was gone.

My hero.

Oh, the hero was well and truly fucked.

[clu-ven]

A Curious Mind

summary: Hunter has always treated you slightly different and Omega is determined to find out why

word count: 2.1k

!reader goes by she/her pronouns!

The bright suns of Plurax make you wince, your arm instinctively coming up to shield your eyes. Shuffling out of the Marauder, you’re about to follow Echo down the steps when a hand suddenly appears in front of you. 

“Oh!” you abruptly stop, almost colliding with it. Looking over to identify the owner of the hand, Hunter comes into view, an amused smile playing at his lips. 

Already on the ground below, he stretches his gloved hand up to you, offering some support as you exit. You give him a grateful smile “Thanks Sarge”. 

Slipping your hand into his, Hunter gives you a small, reassuring squeeze and you continue your descent down. 

You’re not sure why you were so surprised by the action, after all, this isn’t a rare occurrence. In fact, it’s the opposite. Whether you have to jump a few feet from a ship or simply walk down a landing platform, Hunter always offers you his hand. 

Every. Single. Time.

Once your feet reach the ground, he nods his head and reluctantly lets his hand fall from yours. His grip on his helmet, placed neatly underneath his other arm tightens for a moment as he wonders if he should have said more to you. 

Oblivious to Hunter’s internal worries, you walk over to the rest of the batch and listen to Tech’s recap of the plan.

Turning back to the ship, Hunter taps the command panel and watches as the Marauder begins to close. Sensing eyes on him, he glances over his shoulder to the rest of the batch, only to realise none of them are paying much attention to him. 

Casting his gaze downwards, his eyes meet Omega’s, who peers up at him curiously.

“Why do you always do that?” she asks.

“So we won’t get raided,” he shrugs as if the answer is obvious “or worse, if someone sees a ship like this unlocked, they’ll steal it and get a few thousands credits for it, especially with the amount of upgrades it has”. 

“What? No, not that” Omega rolls her eyes, returning Hunter’s ‘that should be obvious’ tone. 

When Omega says your name, Hunter’s eyes go wide, his posture becoming stiff as she elaborates “You always help her off the ship… why?”. His eyes flick over to you as Omega talks, hoping you didn’t hear her say your name. 

Thankfully you’re too busy listening to Tech, who’s explaining your part of the mission to you.

“Just to be nice, I guess” he mumbles his response, trying to keep his voice low. 

“But you don’t do it for Wrecker or Tech or Echo… hey, you don’t do that for me either!” she exclaims, a tinge of annoyance in her voice.

Hunter shakes his head, his mind turning to mush as he tries to think of an easy explanation “Well, that’s because you don’t need help getting off the ship”.

It’s like he can see the cogs turning in Omega’s head, already cringing at his answer as she questions “... but she needs help? She can’t get off the ship if you don’t hold her hand?”.

Oh Kriff. 

“Well, no, that’s not what I meant-” he starts but Omega quickly talks over him. “Is she not good with balance? Is it like how Wrecker doesn’t like heights?”. 

Before Hunter can form a response, Wrecker loudly interrupts them, the mere mention of his fear getting his full attention.

“Heights?!” Wrecker repeats, drawing everyone’s focus to Hunter and Omega. Throwing his head back, Wrecker lets out a whine “Oh please tell me this mission doesn’t involve heights”.

“Plurax is a relatively flat planet,” Tech interjects, his eyes still fixed on his datapad “and considering our main objective is to extract the bacta pods found in the small medical facility, I doubt heights will be involved”.

Wrecker lets out a sigh of relief, his shoulders deflating. “Phew, you almost got me that time, Hunter” he chuckles. 

Hunter nods, hoping to quickly brush past this entire situation. “Right, well let’s get this over and done with” taking his helmet from underneath his arm, Hunter places it on his head.

“But what about my quest-” Omega starts but Hunter cuts her off, acutely aware that you as well as the others are still listening “Later, Omega. All that matters right now is the mission”. With a sigh, she nods her head.

***

After successfully retrieving the bacta pods, the Marauder is quiet… for once. The hum of the ship speeding through hyperspace fills the silence as everyone gets some much needed rest. 

Peering out of her room, Omega holds on to Lula the tooka doll as she scans the bunks. Wrecker sleeps in one, his arm obscuring his face and thankfully muffling his snores. On the other bunk, Tech is fast asleep and judging by the pile of blankets on the upper bunk, you’re asleep up there.

Tip-toeing past, Echo comes into view. He’s seated at the table, head resting on his arm as he mumbles in his sleep. Continuing on her journey, Hunter is the last person for Omega to see, his seated form visible when she approaches the cockpit. Slowly, she nears him.

From the corner of his eye, Hunter notices Omega, subtly watching as she quietly walks forward. “You should be asleep” Hunter’s voice cuts through the silence, making Omega stop in her tracks.

She sighs, giving up her attempt to sneak “But I can’t, I’m not tired”. Hopping up on the seat beside him, Omega keeps Lula close to her, curling up on the chair. 

Hunter doesn’t reply. He knows how hard it is to go from being on high alert on a mission to being told to get some rest, adrenaline still coursing through your veins.

He remembers the first few missions he ever went on and how hard it was to rest, his senses too overwhelmed to even comprehend the idea of sleep. 

“You did it again, y’know” Omega says, pulling his attention back to her.

“What?” Hunter has a suspicious feeling he knows what she’s talking about but he hopes if he feigns some kind of ignorance then hopefully she’ll drop it.

“You helped her back onto the ship,” she explains, some sarcasm in her voice as she teases “when we were leaving Plurax… she must have really bad balance if you have to help her all the time”.

Head dipping down, Hunter’s hair obscures his face. “Omega,” he groans “she doesn't have balance problems, it’s just… look, it’s better if you let this go, ok?”.

“But why?” she drops her legs down, leaving them dangle freely.

“It’s… complicated”.

“How?” she presses, shrugging as she mumbles “I’m just curious”.

“Yeah, too curious,” Hunter says with an affectionate scoff and shake of his head.

Trying to simplify it, Omega begins listing out “Earlier you said that you do it to be nice but you only do it for her, nobody else! She doesn’t need you to do it since she doesn’t actually have any balance problems, hmmm and it’s pretty obvious you don’t like it when people point it out”. Hunter grimaces the more Omega goes on. 

Thinking out loud, she furrows her brow “I wonder if she notices, I mean it’s pretty obvious so she must have by now…maybe I should ask her”.

“What? No!“ Hunter is quick to sit on the edge of his seat, facing Omega fully “You can’t do that, that’s a direct order”. Despite his pleading look, Omega simply raises an eyebrow, knowing she’s got him right where she wants him.

“Okay, I won’t ask her,” she complies before adding “but you have to tell me why!”.

Hunter sighs. A part of him is impressed, equally proud of her determination as well as cursing it. Sighing, he avoids her eye contact as he tries to explain. 

“Well, since she’s not… uh, a clone… I just want to make sure… that, um… that she feels welcome” yes, Hunter is making this up as he goes. It’s true, of course but not his main reason. 

Omega is not convinced, her face the epitome of disappointment. Not giving in, she replies “Yeah, that’s nice and all, Hunter but I don’t think that’s why”. 

Hunter’s body deflates, putting his face in his hands. Even if he wants to, he doesn’t think he can get the words out. This is something he’s never had to verbalise before nor is it something he’s had to admit to anybody.

With his face still covered, he hears Omega’s voice “Can I tell you my theory?”.

He doesn’t reply and yet Omega continues “I think you like her”. Hunter can hear her smile in her tone, removing his hands to confirm his suspicions. 

Watching for his reaction, Omega beams up at him. “And I mean like like her” she adds with the wiggle of her eyebrows.

Hunter keeps his face still, unsure how to react. 

“I mean, it’s not a bad thing if you do,” she shrugs, offering some reassurance “I think it’s kinda cute, especially since she like likes you too”. 

He freezes. 

What?

Judging by the stunned look on Hunter’s face, Omega explains “I overheard her saying it to Echo, she said something about her heart racing whenever you’re around and being paranoid over it. I didn’t know if that was a good or bad thing at first but every time you do something nice for her, she gets all lovey-dovey so I think it’s a good thing”.

“Lovey-dovey?” Hunter scrunches up his face, not quite believing what his sister is saying.

“Yeah, like this” clutching her hands together, Omega tries her best to bat her eyelashes as she lets out a comically loud sigh before giving Hunter a goofy smile.

With a grin tugging at his lips, he dismisses “I don’t think I’ve ever seen her do that before”.

“That’s because you always look away!” she exclaims “ooh, I’ll have to add that to the list; you’re really bad at keeping eye contact with her”.

He rolls his eyes but the idea that maybe, just maybe you like him too distracts Hunter from properly deflecting Omega’s addition to her list. Even the idea of their being some hope that you feel the same way is enough to send Hunter’s head spinning. 

Yawning, Omega hops down from her seat “I’m just saying, it would be a shame if you both like like each other but never tell one another”. 

Hunter stays quiet, though he knows she’s right. “Anyways, I’ll try to get some sleep, night Hunter” giving him one last smile, Omega leaves him alone with his thoughts.

Taking a deep breath, Hunter leans back in his seat, resting one of his legs by the command panel as he looks out at the whirling blue lights of hyperspace. Hunter closes his eyes, trying to centre himself. Only you could daze him as much as this and make it feel so damn exciting. 

Were the signs that you liked him back always there? For a guy with heightened senses, he presumed he would have picked up on it… but Omega is right, he doesn’t exactly hold eye contact with you. And whenever he hears the loud beating of a heart when you’re near, he hurriedly assumes it’s his own.

Speaking of his senses, he can tell Omega is still there, hovering by the doorway. He waits a few seconds, giving her the time to speak but she doesn’t.

Hunter knows where this is going, presuming she’ll either ask him to carry her back to bed or try to convince him to get her a snack. He takes his time opening his eyes again, turning his upper body to look at her.

Hunter can feel his stomach drop. His body automatically freezing as if you won’t see him if he doesn’t move. 

You give him an equally bewildered look, a twist of anxiety in your gut. “Can we talk?” you ask, the words coming out quieter than expected.

Hunter has one main question on his mind: how much have you heard? And yet he doesn’t ask that question, instead blurting out “But I thought you were sleeping?”. 

Is that a question? Or a statement? Hunter has no idea, his brain utterly scattered.

You smile nervously. “I was getting ready to go to sleep,” you reveal “I was just in the refresher”.

Pointing to the door to the refresher, Hunter’s heart lurches at how close it is to the cockpit, knowing you’ve definitely heard everything.

Clearing his throat, Hunter nods “Yeah, let’s talk”. It’s better to talk this through now, while everyone else is asleep. 

He isn’t sure how this will go, still doubtful that you could actually like him back. But there’s only one way to find out. Hunter gives you a small smile as you sit where Omega was minutes ago. Once you’re comfortably seated, Hunter takes a deep breath and begins…

[ell-arts]

The Veil  |  Chapter 10  | No Rest for the Undead

Chapter Summary: The Ghost Gang find themselves in a compromising predicament.

-

Finally, a ghost with actual fingers for me to draw! :D

I am very tired, but so glad to finally get this baby out. I might hop back into the chapter tomorrow to fix some errors I may have missed, but for now, enjoy!

I am very, VERY curious over what you guys will think of this chapter.

[mcyt-cats]

Quick question, am I allowed to ask for a tally of how many life series people own cats to your knowledge?

If so, what is the ratio of cat owners to non-cat owners?

Sure!

Grian: 2 cats, Maui and Pearl

Pearl: 2 cats, Olive and Nugget

Scar: 1 cat, Jellie

Impulse: 1 cat, Luna

Martyn: 2 cats, Kiki and Pascal

Jimmy: 2 cats, Norman and Flick

Cleo: At least 2 cats, Atlas and Glados

Skizz: At least 2 cats, Ginny and Ravenclaw

Scott: 1 cat, Elle

--

Mumbo: Technically no cats, as Benji lives with his mom. 1 dog.

Lizzie and Joel: No cats. Sadly, Buddy passed away. 1 dog of course, Meri.

Bigb: To my knowledge, no cats.

Bdubs: To my knowledge, no cats. (Edit: 1 dog)

Tango: To my knowledge, no cats. (Edit: 2 dogs)

Ren: No cats, 1 dog though (edit: no dog cries)

Etho: To my knowledge, no cats

Gem: No cats. 1 dog, though.

---

Final ratio: 9/18 have cats, so right at 50%!

[buckevantommy]

it's so wild to look at s1!buck compared to s7!buck

[lxvi-gloria]

Drabble Prompt: Post-canon Levi, struggling with chronic pain and mourning his dead loved ones, being visited by his still alive loved ones

Anon, you knew how to talk pretty to me <3

hihi requests are still open btw

I feel like I gotta put a disclaimer or something lmao. So, the length of my drabble requests is usually something between 100-400 words. This request is just an incredibly unexpected exception. it just happened to fit into this idea I already had been thinking of, which was how the remaining 104th would ask Levi to be part of important events in their lives because well, they like the dude lmao, so expect that sort of one-shot soon. Additionally, since I kept reminding myself that this was supposed to be a drabble, I might have glossed over the chronic pain and mourning bits so I'm sorry about that ;;

that being said, 2.4k words of Levi and Gabi be upon ye <3

Now on Ao3!

The angry hissing of the kettle makes him flinch. It brings a loud ringing to his right ear. Instinctively, he places his right hand over it, and gives his ear a couple of gentle taps; it's more of a grounding gesture, a distraction from the buzzing. He usually keeps watch over the kettle, so that he can lower the heat just right before it gets a chance to scream at him. 

He realises then that he must have spaced out while waiting. It’s alright, he thinks. It’s been like that a lot, recently. He’s been like that. Lost in thought-- lost in time, if he allowed himself to be precise. The last days, weeks even, as the temperatures started to drop, blended into each other. There’s a little calendar on his bedside table, it had been a birthday gift from Armin – or had that been Mikasa’s? He isn’t sure, he had received an absurd number of presents from the kids last year, it had been hard to keep track of who gave him what and now the fact escaped him. Turning the pages of the little calendar, with its delicate botanical illustrations on each day, quickly became part of his morning routine, and so he was sure that time was passing at all. The stillness of the routine, he guesses, made him like this.

His vision blurs momentarily while he scoops the tea leaves into the teapot. He squints, trying to will his good eye to focus, but all he gets in return is a throb in his right eye. After putting the tea canister away, he presses the inner sides of his wrists to both eyes, placing just enough pressure to relieve the discomfort. When he opens his eyes again, he is pleased to find he can read the small print on the canister an arm’s length away. 

There’s a loud slam coming from the front of the house, followed by footsteps coming further into the house.

He quickly recognizes the heavy stomping as Gabi’s gait. She’s always been so loud.

Gabi crosses the arch into the small kitchen and dining area. 

“Don’t slam my doors,” he says as a greeting, slowly turning his head to his left side, trying to catch a glimpse of her in his periphery.

“Aye, aye,” the kid waves her hand, shoots him a teasing grin, “someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed.”

Levi hums in response but doesn’t say anything else. He busies himself with placing everything they need for their morning tea and coffee on a metal tray on the counter, which Gabi takes from him as soon as it’s ready and sets it on the table.

He grabs his cane from where he had hooked it on one of the kitchen drawers. He has been leaning against the counter, his right leg supporting most of his weight all this time. He braces himself for the sharp pain that will surely surge from his bad knee, through his left hip and up his spine. Cold mornings like this one and being still in one place for long will do that to him. It’s not so bad. It could be worse.

It takes 4 steps to get from the stove to his chair, which Gabi has already pulled out for him. It sits at an angle that allows him to easily slide down on it and rest his right elbow on top of the table, leaning back and against his good side.

“I have something that will cheer you up,” she holds a couple of envelopes in her hand and waves them at him, “You’ve got mail!”

He nods at her in acknowledgement but does not take his attention away from preparing his first batch of tea of the day. There’s a ritual to it, it almost feels like, and he doesn’t want to mess it up. Not when the ringing in his ear is still there, the building pressure in the upper back part of his eyeballs, and the cold air seeping into his bones through his thick jumper. Oh, how he needs a good cup of tea right now.

While Levi waits for it to steep, he grabs the papers that she had shoved in his face, squints his eyes at the first envelope and finds that he is unable to make out much of the handwriting. He brings it closer to his face, squints harder, steals a quick glance across the table and hopes Gabi isn’t paying him any mind, too preoccupied with choosing from the bag of pastries she brought with her. It is with an impassive expression that he hands the stack of envelopes back. 

“Read it for me.” A beat and then he adds, a little reluctant: “Please.”

He knows Gabi prefers coffee in the mornings, and black tea in the evenings, so he makes sure to have a fresh brew of the former whenever he knows she’s coming over; so, with shaky hands, Levi gets to prepare her cup of coffee. While he enjoys the aroma of it, he remains faithful to tea; at first, he thought he didn’t like it because he had butchered his first attempts at brewing it. But even after Onyankopon had taught him how to do it properly and he had enjoyed his cup, it didn’t bring the same comfort as tea. It just never hit the spot.

She shoots him a mischievous grin, “Oh, you sure? What if I read something personal, hm?” 

Levi just shakes his head, scoffing at the idea of Gabi finding his junk mail fascinating.

“Is this how I find out you have a secret lover you’re exchanging raunchy love letters with?” Gabi teases, wiggling her eyebrows at him.

He lets out a tired sigh and rolls his eyes, “just wanna be done with it, ” he stirs the milk into Gabi’s coffee, which now has turned into a cup of milk with coffee. “We have a lot to prepare for tonight.”

She clicks her tongue at him, but still rips the first envelope open, “Mr. Levi, your reading won’t improve if you keep doing that,” she jokingly scolds him.

Although Levi mentally recognises handing her and Falco stuff he couldn’t be bothered reading before, that’s not the case this time. He’ll let her think that for now, though, because he doesn’t want to mention the pressure building in the back of his bad eye, it’s not important and she, a kid, doesn’t need to know his newly found ailment of the week. He can see just fine around him right now. He can see Gabi’s big eyes and playful smile at the other side of the table, and that’s good enough; smaller details, he doesn’t feel he can do them, not without making himself go dizzy with a migraine.

Levi slides the cup of coffee to her and is pleased with himself when she approves of the colour of her drink.

“It’s from Armin,” she announces as she scans the letter. 

From this angle, the soft morning light illuminating her face and thanks to his faulty vision, Gabi’s image stirs his memory. His heart faintly constricts as he is reminded of the many times Hange read their research reports to him during breakfast in the mess hall before presenting them to Erwin. Levi always wondered how they could read so fast, sometimes he even doubted they were actually reading at all, their words barely being able to catch up with her eyes; he never asked about it, maybe reading came easy to them as numbers did to him.

A high-pitched squeal from Gabi startles him, bringing him back to the here and now.

“Oh… ohh, Mr. Levi,” she starts, her smile widening by the second “This is good news!”

Gabi makes a show of clearing her throat and then starts reading “Dear Captain, I hope this letter finds you well and in good health.” 

Levi can’t help but let a sardonic huff at the irony of the greetings but doesn’t let himself be bothered by it. He has written only a handful of personal letters throughout his life, and by now he knows it’s just something you’re supposed to say because jumping straight to the point isn’t acceptable, or so that’s what he had been told. 

Gabi continues reading Armin’s words to him. For the most part, it’s a standard letter coming from him: he asks Levi how he’s dealing with the changing of the seasons, how Gabi and Falco are faring, if business at the tea shop has been good, if there’s anything Levi needs that he can’t get in town so that Armin or the others can get it for him. He tells him a little about the country he’s writing from, he even includes a photograph. Then, after the expected pleasantries, Gabi can barely hold her excitement and starts reading faster, trying so hard not to trip over her words.

“If I’m being sincere, we would prefer to ask you in person,” Gabi stops for a second to look up at him from the paper, gauging for a reaction and finding nothing, she continues. 

Armin apologises for not being able to visit him before the holidays, Annie included, and so it is implied that he won’t be attending tonight’s reunion. 

Sometime during the last five years, the Alliance brats had decided to make showing up at Levi’s doorstep together once a year a sort of custom; the first time it happened was during an early winter, a blizzard had stopped them from leaving Levi’s until the next morning. It had been a really nice evening despite the awful weather, Levi remembers, after everyone pitched in one way or another, they all shared a simple but hearty meal together. It was Connie who jokingly said they should do it every year. The following year, Onyankopon, Gabi and Falco joined them. 

This year would be their fourth, and the first someone wouldn’t make it. That fact sits heavily in Levi’s chest, stealing the spotlight from his throbbing eye.

“...Annie and I have decided to get married. The both of us would like you to officiate our ceremony!” unable to contain her excitement, she tears her eyes away from the paper and looks at Levi. “Huh?! This is good news! What’s with the constipated face?!”

That doesn’t sound right. It figures that Annie and Armin would be the first to marry; in a way, he is happy for them, they clearly care for each other. No, that part is easy to understand. Their union is logical to anyone who knows the couple. What Levi can’t figure out is why they are asking him such a thing.

He clears his throat, assumes it’s been 3 minutes and his tea is ready to be poured and so he distracts himself with that.

When he doesn’t answer Gabi, she picks up where she left off. 

He isn’t… well, he isn’t that close to either of them. He’s sure Annie must have other relatives that could step in his stead. Maybe a brother, a cousin. Even Jean or Reiner would be better options than Levi. He isn’t good with words or people like they are, he couldn’t possibly give them a speech about something foreign to him as it is that kind of love, that’s what people expect, right? His title of Captain is obsolete in this new world, so it can’t be that either. Hell, he has never been to a fucking wedding. 

Just… why him?

As expected, Armin doesn’t really go into the details of their choice but does let Levi know they do not expect a fast answer and that they do not want him to feel pressured to accept it, despite how much it would mean to them if he did. Armin asks if there’s anything in particular that he would like for his birthday, as it is a month away, and closes the letter by saying he looks forward to seeing him and everyone then.

When the letter is closed and put back into its envelope, silence falls around them. For a moment the only sound that can be heard is the clinking of tableware as Levi places the teacup back on its saucer.

It bothers him, that he knows he will be letting Armin down by refusing something that any other well-adapted person would consider an honour. But the thought of embarrassing him and himself, because he gave an awkward, most likely insensitive, speech, mortifies him. No, he can’t put them and their guests through that. He will find a way to make it up to the couple, maybe he can… he doesn’t know yet, but he will come up with something.

As he finishes his first cup, Levi realises that at some point while he was lost in thought, the ringing in his ear has subsided and now it’s back to that muffled, cotton-in-ear sensation he’s used to and he doesn’t feel his eyeball pulsating anymore. Glancing at Gabi, he notices she is trying really hard not to say something, her brow furrowed as she takes a sip of her own drink, followed by a big bite of her pastry. Flakes stick to the corner of her mouth and for once it doesn’t disgust him. Instead, it makes his lips twitch as if going into a smile.

“I can help you... if you want,” she says eventually, sounding uncharacteristically careful and small of her.

Levi quirks an eyebrow “Help? with what?” 

She shrugs, “How to… tell them you don’t want to,” she avoids looking at him for the first time, finding the flakes on her plate more interesting. She shrugs again and tilts her head to the side, a thin line of a smile appearing on her face. “...or prepare for the ceremony.”

Not unlike many times before, Gabi’s words render him speechless, if only for a moment. He spares his tea a glance and he thinks: it’s bold of her to be so upfront about offering her help to him, and had it been any other morning, one where he couldn’t think past the constant ache in his body, he would’ve chewed her head off for simply trying to help him because he himself doesn’t know how to accept that kindness.

This kid is trying her best and he can’t help but feel somewhat proud of that.

“You have shit on your face. Here,” he points to where the flakes would sit on his own face and picks his refilled teacup back up.

Gabi quickly wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, getting most of the flakes off. Levi gives her a thumbs-up with his free hand.

“I’ll think about it,” he finally concedes and tries to ignore the little happy dance she does in her seat.

This time, when the amber liquid touches his lips, it’s remarkably sweeter than before.

[neptune-scythe]

t*mmy the type of guy to call Eddie himself to "deal with" Buck and whatever he's got going on because he simply cannot be bothered to put any energy into the relationship

[carinavi5]

I can't do anything to help those in Valencia, but I at least want to say my opinion.

I don't live close enough to go offer my help, and I can't really donate right now. I don't have a car and I live pretty far away from the city, which is where the main points to collect food, water and clothes are at.

But I'm seeing so much help from the rest of the Spaniards. Giant amounts of food and water being sent that way, and an even bigger amount of Valencians or people that live nearby walking to the most affected places carrying food, water and clothes, and shovels, brooms, buckets and whatever they each had in their home that could be used to help. Seeing all those people, all those volunteers, helping is heartwarming. Good people do exist. Solo el pueblo salva al pueblo. Only the village saves the village.

I want to clarify all this people are going there walking or biking because they aren't use the roads to not oversaturate them.

Now, let's being. What has happened?

Before: The day before AEMET, the State Meteorology Agency, had been giving warnings and updating their social media and all that saying that this was big. But nonetheless, no official warnings where given by the state. School and work was all continuing as before. No kind of informative help was sent to the people.

During: Rain. A shit ton of rain. A years worth of rain in 8 hours. Even in the places with no rain the effects are catastrophic, the rivers have caused floodings, and the cities, towns and villages have all been covered by meters of water. I don't know how much. (I also want to say that I'm no expert, but why had it been allowed to build in certain areas?)

The water rises in minutes, is fast, and with no warning no one was prepared. People were off to work, continuing with their every day life, now trapped wherever the flood caught them. Many others had gone to their garages to try and get their cars out when they saw that they were starting to flood. And many people have died in them, trapped. Don't blame these people, no kind of warning of how big this was gonna be was given, cars are a very big economical investment for the families and, again, the water rises too fast to really do much.

Cars and all kind of big, sharp and heavy crap being dragged by the water. That water also contaminated (by what the river in itself had, the liquids that came from inside the cars and other places, and now by the decomposing organic matter), so those inevitably swimming in it were in great danger for many reasons.

Think about the animals too. Ah, and also, no light nor electricity while all this was going on.

I've seen people on social media saying how it all went for them. I'm not gonna say their individual stories, but if you look them up, you'll be able to find them.

Immediately after: The people went to different stores to try and get food, water and medicine. All this stores were already broken and had been affected by the floodings. And still some newspapers (you know who you are) were trying to put shame on this people. Yes, I guess some people could have used the commotion to steal from houses or jewelry stores or whatever, but it wasn't the case of what they were showing, and it's not what the vast majority of people where doing.

Many others were out looking for their missing relatives. Some started to walk towards the big city nearby, to find some help. The conditions of the streets were apocalyptic.

A bit more time after: What I've said at the beginning. The affected throwing out the things inside their house that were too damaged by the water. Still no food, water or electricity. The roads blocked by the residues of what the water had dragged. Lots of mud everywhere. And the good people going there to offer their help. To clean the streets and their houses.

More or less right now: Other parts of Spain and even other countries offer help and resources. That help is denied. It took too long for the military to be sent to this places, but they are advising the volunteers not to go help, that theres no need anymore and that they are making it harder for the "actual help" to go. Lies. There's no emergency services help, no policemen, firefighters or military helping. And not because they don't want to, the help they offer is being rejected, not authorized.

Cleaning all that mud is so hard. All the help is appreciated. With proper equipment and machinery this would be easier.

Who to blame: The government of Valencia. Some say the one from the whole Spain for not applying certain measures. If you follow the law, the one to ask for certain measures to be taken is the Government of Valencia. And changing the whole administration of a disaster in the middle of it is just not a good idea, even if it's going late, because everything would be even more postponed.

And what truly makes them the ones to blame, they CHOSE not to warn the people, but they had cut down the budget for the emergency services and gave it to bullfighting instead.

Now the number of deaths is around 209, but there are still many disappeared people.

If you don't want to blame rain on anyone (some are saying climate change, others are arguing back saying that this has happened before), at least blame how they handled it.

Blame Carlos Mazón.

The king, queen, president of Spain and president of Valencia have gone to one of the affected places, Paiporta. I don't know why they are there, they are obviously not helping with the manual labor and are not saying anything useful either. I've seen some stuff around, I don't know what's really going on so for now I don't say anything. But the people were screaming at them and throwing stuff.

Some days after I'm still not too sure what's happening rn in Spain lol.

[sciderman]

Sci beloved what do you think Peter and El's dynamic would be like?

el? gonna assume you mean eleanor... my darling... oh...

i'm honestly so obsessed with eleanor and peter's dynamic already - peter is just immediately fond of her. he just, he likes her right off the bat. she's charismatic, and brave, and peter knows it right out of the gate.

peter's so ready to sign those adoption papers. he loves eleanor already. she's everything that he loves in wade.

peter's perpetually in eleanor's corner - he's the soft-willed fun parent - if she can't get her way with wade, she'll run to peter and know that he literally cannot say no.

he thinks that means he's the favourite, but eleanor is a master manipulator just like her biological father and knows exactly who to talk to and what to say to get everything she wants. so if she knows she won't win with wade, she'll trick peter into her bidding. peter is but a naïve pawn in eleanor's games. he believes she can do no wrong, even though every ounce of wade wilson's wickedness courses through her veins. and sometimes eleanor double crosses peter. she has no loyalty. it shocks peter to his core, every time, but she's one step ahead of him, every time.

i can't wait for you guys to see how diabolical eleanor is going to be. oh my god. ohhh my god. see, peter and wade both have dormant supervillain potential within them that they suppress, but eleanor's supervillain gene is Active and she is a Horror.