#i wish we got to know more about her and her story

[djarinsyndulla]

I really wish you all would let the “Blake Lively promoted that movie terribly” talking point go already considering we know Blake Lively was made a REAL LIFE victim due to the production and filming of this movie. Justin Baldoni and his buddy Heath repeatedly violated Blake’s space and entered her trailer while she was nude and/or breastfeeding, they showed nude photos of their spouses to Blake and other cast members, they repeatedly brought up their pornography addictions, they allowed their friends not associated with the movie on set during nude scenes with Blake, Justin and Heath pressured Blake to film the birth scene nude and the guy Justin got to play the OBGYN was just his friend, the studio didn’t have COVID insurance so they kept a covid exposure a secret which resulted in Blake AND her infant getting covid, Baldoni repeatedly would tell Blake he talks to her dead father, and Baldoni straight up admitted to Blake there’s been times he didn’t ask for consent and wouldn’t listen to his sexual partners who told him “no”.

This isn’t even close to being all the things mentioned in that sexual harassment and retaliation complaint and I didn’t even get into how the studio specifically told the cast to promote the movie the way Blake did, but people are still stuck on how this stupid movie was promoted. Y’all care more about a fictional story than an actual real victim like that’s crazy.

[artzval]

🎇SINSMAS🎇

I believe this was the most heartbreaking scene in the whole episode.

Both Stolas and Blitzø have craved and longed all their life for some sense of belongingness.

They obviously have very different stories behind themselves, but being part of a loving family was clearly something that would bring immense happiness to them.

Stolas loneliness and love for Octavia are very important aspects of his own character.

Especially after we got a chance to get to know His Father, Paimon, and we don't still don't KNOW A THING ABOUT HIS MOTHER (very sus).

Stolas grew up without knowing love but still loved Via dearly. It would have been easy for him to fall into the same circle, but he never grew to resent her.

Instead, he loved her more than his own happiness.

Blitzø instead, is craving something that he once had.

But having known love only to then have it ripped away at such young age is somehow even more heartbreaking.

While he struggled immensely with personal issues and self loathing, he didn't close his heart completely.

He adopted Loona, not out of selfishness but because he realized she needed someone.

Someone he wish he could have had at her age.

It was not an hasty decision, he was READY to give it all for her, and he did.

He was probably clueless at first, but it didn't stop him from trying his hardest.

Proof of that is the fact that he gave her his own room and started sleeping on the couch since then.

He was not going to be like his father.

He is a caring and affectionate person at heart.

Behind all those emotional walls it was always like that, we're seeing more of it right now cuz he's finally letting the people who care about him love him in return.

Stolas was recently "Added" to that list of people, not because there wasn't any love before, but just because blitzø only recently accepted his feeling for the Prince.

He loves him, and understands what it means to be a single father.

BLITZØ WAS BORN TO BE A GIRLS DAD GUYS C'MONNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN

It's obvious that he would also care about Via, especially when she means so much to Stolas and after seeing how much he loves his own daughter and loves being a father!!!

The next season is going to be INTENSE!

Via is rightfully upset, from her pov Blitzø took her Dad away from her. It's gonna take some time to get her to understand that what they have is something she could be also included in.

They could be a family.

I LOVE FOUND FAMILY TROPES.

[omegastation]

You go into this conversation with Javik and you have no idea what is going to hit you.

He talks about Shepard being resurrected, and what he means that he gets to "come back" and fight the Reapers. The difference to Javik is that Shepard got to come back to his people. Javik just comes back to the Reapers.

He asks Shepard about the crew in a very specific way: Are they the reason you continue to be living? And if you pick "Yes, they matter most", Shepard says:

My crew has become my family. We've stared death in the face more times than I can count. Things like that bind people together in ways I can't really explain.

And you go, oh. What a nice conversation. Very nice, good feelings, power of friendship.

Except it's ME3 and it's here to break your heart.

So Javik answers a simple "yes" because Shepard doesn't have to explain anything, he knows exactly what they mean. And he hopes Shepard will never have to do what Javik had to do to his own indoctrinated crew.

He was hunted by his own people, so at that point in the game we have to picture Garrus, Liara, Tali, Wrex, Kaidan/Ashley, Samantha, EDI, Joker, Miranda, Jack, Grunt, Kasumi, Jacob, Zaeed, Samara, James or even Anderson and Hackett going after Shepard.

I cornered my men and slit their throats one by one. I watched them bleed to death to be certain.

And it's meant to make us think about Shepard doing the same, having no other choice.

It was the day I understood: war is atrocity commited in the name of survival.

It is a lesson I wish I had never learned.

My interpretation here and it's only an interpretation, is that he's really saying, I'm the version of you who lived for my crew and look what happened. Look at this lesson I learned. So get ready and be prepared.

And it goes back to the very specific wording in his question. He's not just asking Shepard what motivates them. He's asking: Are they the reason you continue to be living?

And telling his story, it seems to me like he's saying that in his experience, living for the ones you love is how you lose the war. The enemies will take them from you, one by one. You should live for yourself, to survive, but leaving for yourself will mean, in the context of this war, that you will have to commit an atrocity.

It's really interesting to have this conversation with him right after the one with EDI, because EDI will figure out through her conversation with Shepard that self-preservation as a means in itself can disgust her. Javik here adds more layers to the whole story.

[kirkwallguy]

i agree with your takes on dragon age's relationship with queer content a lot. a straight female inquisitor (bonus point if elf) gets the most romance options, zevran and leliana's romance feels secondary *by narrative* compared to romances of characters who's a warden/king alistair and morrigan, sebastian being bisexual being a cut content*

* i just don't get it why the templar boys always got to be straight. like why can't men engage with their romances and experience this narrative when chantry and religion is so important for the story of these games? after all romance adds a different perspective for all characters.

here we have veilguard, the pansexual crew, and well... the romance content is the weakest in franchise

and i'm not saying queer romances were bad btw!! its just that i wish people who wants to play mlm or wlw get to see such perspectives in the story or these characters' stories too. like a male warden romancing alistair and all the juicy stuff that comes with it (the hurt or angst or the complications. are you sparing loghain? did you just marry the love of your life off to his sister-in-law for the future of your beloved country? did he become a drunkard visiting bars after bars because of the decisions you made even tough you were intimate?)

no exactly! i do tend to want to give them some slack given they're very Of Their Time (for a 2009 game even including bisexual options was scandalous, and dorian's bare bones coming out narrative was pretty standard for 2013 tv shows / rare in aaa games) but it annoys me when people act like they're these flawless beacons of queer rep that you can't criticise just because we should be happy with being given anything at all. even if you don't count seb, 1/2 of the games pretty much require you to play an f/m relationship in order to experience a narratively relevant relationship. i find dai more insidious tbh because like... sure, don't make solas bi for whatever reasons you want to give. but cass and blackwall? there's 0 reason for them to be straight lol. (especially the bait and switch where you're allowed to flirt with cass as a woman for AGES before she turns you down despite characters like cullen shutting you down on the first flirt. it's funny when you do it intentionally but just feels cruel otherwise?) at least leliana and zevran feel like they're doing the most they were allowed to do

a gay or bisexual chantry/templar character who struggles with their sexuality would be SO interesting. honestly it would require more introspection about thedas' attitude towards sexuality than da has ever done - i feel like they could have done a fun subplot with this in da2 honestly.

and the thing about the dav characters is... they went to great lengths to make sure they avoided the playersexual allegations, multiple characters had a past where they dated people of various genders, taash having a preference for women was mentioned (in the weirdest way possible) but i still... don't know how they feel about their sexuality at all? neve is a tevinter mage, did her liking women play a part in her seeing through the issues with the system? does bellara have any lingering feelings about irelin at all? did harding realise she didn't have to be straight when she joined the inquisition and met people outside of her small ferelden town? (potential extra dialogue for an f/f romancing inquisitor???) it doesn't need to be a big Thing, but just a one-off dialogue during romance (davrin m/m exclusive dialogue on your date: "the first time i brought a man to meet my uncle i was so nervous etc etc") or a comment during a banter. it just establishes a little bit more about the characters and stops them feeling so flat... then again ig that's an issue with the whole game LOL.

[bookshelf-in-progress]

Jules and Vern

"The worst thing about time travel is that it's so dreadfully dull." Juliette leaned back against the railing and fanned herself beneath her enormous broad-brimmed hat.

Vernon felt even shabbier and out-of-place standing here by the most expensively-dressed woman amid the expensively-dressed crowd on the deck of the time cruiser, but a statement like that made him forget his self-consciousness. "How can you say that? All of history within your reach!"

This cruise was the trip of a lifetime for him, the result of years of penny-pinching; now that he'd been among this crowd--to whom a time-travel fare was pocket change--he could see how they'd view it as commonplace, but never boring.

Juliette gestured expansively toward the fogs of history that surrounded the ship. "You meet no one but other time travelers, who talk about nothing except the time they glimpsed Alexander the Great from across a battlefield, or passed beneath Beethoven's window while he was banging on a piano, or the time they swear that they actually held a conversation with a medieval peasant, the physical limitations of time travel be hanged."

Vernon leaned forward eagerly, wishing he'd thought to bring a notebook. "Has that actually happened? Speaking to natives? The implications to our understanding of time travel--"

"Of course it hasn't happened, you darling little fool. You're going to be an easy mark if you know so little about time travel."

Vernon reddened. He knew quite a lot about time travel, actually, but this wasn't the time to start listing his papers and awards. Every child knew the first rule of time travel--the streams may run parallel but never cross--but every scientist knew the key to discovery was an open mind. "You can't discount stories just because they go against current scientific understanding. You never know when one could be true."

"None of it's true--that's the entire point. We spend ghastly amounts of money to get on these ships, and then spend the entire time making up lies to prove it was worth it. We wander about historical scenes without having the slightest impact on them. Walk through crowds of people who can't perceive us. We are well-dressed ghosts walking among ruins, never truly living."

It was rather sad when she put it that way, and Vernon felt the strangest urge to comfort a woman who probably spent more in a day than he could earn in the average year.

"I plan to live," Vernon said, even though it sounded horribly too-earnest. "I've got one trip and I plan to make the most of it."

Juliette peered at him above her oversized sunglasses. "You know, I believe you," she said. "And I think that's an excellent reason to make sure I keep you nearby."

[alexxncl]

‼️NIGHTBRINGER LESSON 60 SPOILERS‼️

masterlist | all lessons | season 3 | lesson 59 | lesson 60.2

the end of 5 years...so much time and some money spent on this game and i'm scared about how it's gonna end. ik for a fact we won't get proper closure and there's gonna be a fuck ton of loose ends that we never get answers to, but i've come to accept it bc there's nothing else we can do

onto lesson 60!

one part in and i'm already confused. why are we throwing curveballs in the last lesson of the game 😭 tf is a super moon and what does it have to do with mc

unless this has to do with sol and mc going back in time i'm not seeing the point. and even then is there really a point ??? we haven't touched on time travel AT ALL in season 3, not in any meaningful ways, and if this is how they're tying it in...that's an interesting choice

...this feels extremely low stakes

like yes this is a big deal and yes it could be disastrous, but the fact that we know it'll be resolved in less than one lesson just makes it feel forced and rushed

mc's power staging ? power gauging ? power grading ? whatever the term is, has always been inconsistent to the point that now they're basically god. like why should a human singlehandedly be able to stop the moon from colliding into the devildom

granted, they'll probably have help from the brothers through their pacts and diavolo & barbatos bc duh, but like...couldn't the brothers just use their powers on their own? idk it feels like a shoe horn

and i'm not surprised that it has to do with time travel. they had to talk it about eventually

with the way this is going i'm probably gonna be complaining a lot so fair warning 😭 i wish i could be more happy and enthusiastic but FUCK

thirteen crumbs. i'll take what i can get. i'm gonna miss her 💔💔💔💔💔

the fact that they had to use a scroll bar bc you could choose between all 7 of them 😭

obviously chose my fave. my man. the loml

and obviously the spell didn't work on the first attempt

WHAT

so he's on his deathbed damn near and we're supposed to just be fine with it and go to class like nothing is wrong ???

also the devs are evil for making us choose our favorite and having them get hurt to protect us 💀 why would they play in my face like that

my love :((((((( it's bittersweet to see her this much in this lesson when we barely see thirteen at all in the main story or the event stories. feels like a "here, damn" from the devs

oh so now we can say "i love you" out in the open 😑 yes i'm bitter.

this is vile 😭 not the brothers didn't even know. they got slapped in the face just like we did

.............

every bit of praise i had for the game is void. why would they do this. WHY would they do this. it's like we're back at the beginning of the game all over again

ik it's not "set in stone" or "guaranteed", but it's basically guaranteed. i know it doesn't set back his growth entirely but it feels like it. especially since we barely saw human simeon when he wasn't masking as an angel in og season 4, and he was depressed and sick for the entirety of nb season 3

like i can't even put into words how mad i am. i can't even put into words why i'm so mad. i'm just. sigh

THIS is how they end the game ??? i'm sick. actually. like i have no words

the lucifer fanservice is unsurprising but i didn't expect it to be THIS serious. like what. WHAT.

well. that's the game ig. lesson 60 was...something

[musicfeedsmysoul12]

@fishuwu

You brought this on yourself:

“All Might!” Izumi shouted, trying to get to him. The baton he’d handed her was sparking with the electricity running through it and she casually jabbed Magne in the side when the woman aimed her magnet at her, ducking under the swing.

When Izumi reached the hero’s side she hissed seeing the bloody mess that was his torso. All Might looked at her, something in his eyes before he grabbed her free hand swiped something in her palm, the wetness of it confusing Izumi as he closed her hand around it. “Run, and keep this safe.” he ordered. Izumi didn’t hesitate, bolting as soon as the man shoved her. Her clenched hand she kept tucked to her chest as she whirled around with her baton, making a swipe at Toga who danced backwards with a glare. Best Jeanist shot his threads out at her and Izumi lunged into them, dragged away quickly by the hero.

“Once upon a time,” All Might said in a booming voice. “There were two brothers at the start of the age of Quirks. The younger was sickly and Quirkless. The older though had another Quirk. The ability to take and give Quirks.

“Why are you telling my story All Might?” the man, the villain, fighting All Might asked. “I know it already.” Izumi landed beside Best Jeanst, baton still ready for battle. Her hand she kept close to her.

“You injured?” Jeanist asked her.

“Scrapes and bruises. They wanted to recruit me, said I was brainwashed.” Izumi told him. Yeah sure. She was brainwashed by nineteen years of hate towards her, clawing her way into heroics only to be forced to leave her home as her mother refused to believe she deserved it. Screaming she stole it from someone worthy.

She got lucky Hawks liked her. That Hawks cared about her.

“The elder man began out as a helpful figure, but soon his true intentions were revealed. He wanted power, and more of it.” All Might said. He punched at the villain who waved away the blast. Steam was pouring off All Might. “His brother wished to stop him. In an attempt…”

“To convince his brother, the man forced a Quirk upon him I know, I was the one who did it.” the villain said boredly. “And of course the rest of the story is that my brother had a Quirk all along, the ability to pass on his own Quirk which could also absorb other Quirks. When I gave him a stockpiling Quirk, they bonded. What is your point?” the man shot more of his tentacles out, and All Might punched them away.

“That Quirk continued through the years!” All Might yelled. “It continued down for generations, going through until me!” another punch and the steam seemed to overwhelm him before it vanished. Izumi’s mouth dropped open.

“Yagi-sensei!?” She gasped. Best Jeanist’s own shock felt like a physical thing, the hero stiff as he stared at the fight.

Izumi stared at the man who she knew for the teo years. Her old neighbour who had provided her a safe place when she needed it. Who helped her get her things and escape. The man who taught classes along with his boss All Might at UA. The man who shot her brilliant smiles and who cheered her on as a fuck you to society.

“When we had our last battle, I was injured badly enough I knew my hero career would be over!” Yagi said loudly. “I began looking for someone to pass my Quirk to. I eventually met a young woman so much like myself.” He laughed. “A Quirkless woman who wanted to be a hero to save people. She inspired me! Convinced me that perhaps I should appear as the Quirkless Tagi Toshinori rather then the all powerful All Might to judge my successor!”

“But you didn’t pass it on,” the villain said. “I can tell, you still have One for All.” he wasn’t attacking, obviously as surprised as Izumi and the rest of those watching at the scene.

“I got a job at UA and went through candidates. My former sidekick offered one up and I eventually dismissed him for a comment about the Quirkless woman who got into heroics!” All Might continued. “She proved herself, over and over again even when everyone doubted her!” Suddenly it clicked and Izumi opened her hand. A smear of red blood was on it, wet and almost shining.

“Yet you didn’t offer her it?” The villain said. All Might scoffed.

“She wished to be a Quirkless hero, and I knew she could do it. I knew it when she got into UA, when she beat two strongly Quirked students in her first combat practise, when she fought through the sports festival, when she faced Stain. She would be the perfect successor, a symbol of Hope and Change! But I would not offer her a piece of hair, would not give her my DNA unless she wished it.” All Might laughed. “No other would I ever wish to succeed me, and if she wished it now I would never force her to take it.”

Izumi stared at her hand, at the streak of blood. She slowly lifted her head. Shigaraki had turned and looked at her. Their eyes locked, and Izumi almost swore that a year passed. They stared at one another, neither moving.

It was a choice.

She lifted her hand and covered her mouth, licking up the streak of blood as Shigaraki yelled out, “SENSEI!”

The villain whirled to face Izumi. The heavy not-gaze he held over her made her want to run. Instead she pushed her shoulders back and stared back. Readied her baton, as her feet widened and her teeth became bared.

“It takes two hours girl, for the Quirk to activate!” the man shouted at her. Yagi… Toshinori seemed to be bulking up behind the man. “Plenty of time-”

One last punch came. The villain flew forward, slamming onto the ground as Shigaraki screamed for his sensei. The other villains grabbed him and began dragging him, trying to follow the command from earlier. A portal appeared and they vanished.

The big villain didn’t move. Toshinori dropped.

Izumi ran. She bolted from Jeanist, running towards All Might, towards Toshinori. She ran faster then she ever had, stepping over the villain and going right to the skeleton form of her friend. “Toshinori!” pulled from her lips as she dropped to her knees beside his head. “I have bandages-”

“No,” coughed the hero. He looked at her with his dark eyes. “It’s okay Izumi.”

“No it’s not I can… can I give it back?!” Izumi begged. He shook his head, looking at her with a softness he showed only for her.

“No.” he smiled at her, blood on his teeth. “You can’t and that’s okay young Izumi. You don’t even have to keep it if you don’t wish. Give it to another hero if you want, keep on your path.”

“No, you gave it to me.” Izumi told him, sniffiling. “It’s mine now.” the words echoed, drawing the memory of her holding the terribly made stuffed animal. She reached out to pull his head into her lap. “No one should die alone.” she said sofly.

“I’m not. You’re here, my daughter… my daughter is here.” Toshinori said, eyes holding her face. The lights were dimming. God, Izumi wanted to laugh and cry. The entire scene was dramatic, something out of a movie.

It was fitting. Fitting for All Might, for the larger then life hero who saved everyone with a smile. Fitting for Yagi Toshinori who could quote any superhero movie from the pre-Quirk age. Fitting for her dad.

“I love you dad.” she said, leaning down to kiss his forehead.

“I love you to…” he breathed out and then he was done. Izumi’s tears spilled down her cheeks, her sobs echoing. She lifted her head to scream her grief, the tears falling around her. She cried and cried, unaware of how much time had passed until she stopped.

The villain was being handcuffed when she finished. The heroes were giving her room. However a reporter’s drone was in the air, watching. Izumi bared her teeth. She removed her father’s head from her lap gently before standing. She pointed her fan at the drone.

“I know this is probably live. I’ve been a fan fo heroes since I was born and I know this is going to end up beings made into memes, gifs and reactions. I know you’ll see this Shigaraki Tomura.” she snarled out. “I said before I’ve been fighting a War since I was a child. And I still am, it’s just now my opponent is you.” she grinned, fierce and dangerous. “Getting a Quirk didn’t level the playingfield, I’ve always been as equal as you. I’ve always been fighting on even footing. It just gave me a boost. It gave me a new advantage.” she stared down the camera, shaking in her shoes. What was she doing? Why was she doing this? “I’m the Warrior. And you just declared war on me, war on society. So I’ll meet you head one. But I’m not alone.” Izumi said. “Uravity, Ingenium, Psyren, Froppy, Anima, all of my class is with me. All of 1B is with me. Eraserhead, Present Mic, Nezu, Midnight, Snipe- all of UA is with me.” she bared her teeth again. “Best Jeanist, Hawkes, Endeavour, Wash, Miruko, they’re all with me! So are the reporters, so are the support engineers! You want a war on society? You think we’ll all fall to you? Watch us fight back! Because this isn’t a 1v1 battle! It’s not multiplayer! I won’t let another person die for this War! So watch your back boy!”

[ye4gerism]

hiii😊 I kinda have a few questions about curly’s mom Ngl and maybe his dad. I think my first question for his mom though is….is she racist or just a toxic boy mom or both. I also kinda wonder like what makes her like jimmy so much. Then about his dad. Ik we don’t really know much about him but I just wanted to know like does he likes us at all or more than the mom. I also kinda want to understand curly and his mom’s dynamic. Like when it comes to the toxic boy mom is she trying to see the husband she wants in curly. Because it kinda just came to point where is like these weird boy moms are kinda grooming or being weird with their son. Or is it more of just she’s jealous like jimmy but they aren’t jealous in the same way. I guys my class question is just why did curly’s mom and dad and how did curly take it. Also sorry if this is a lot😭 happy holidays 🎄

author’s note hi! thank you for your ask. this is a long post and i don’t want to clog up the feed. so click ‘keep reading’ to keep reading lol.

content good luck captain

ok so, here’s the long answer to your first question 😭 as you’ve probably noticed i am a black writer and make it my purpose to write for readers who look like me. the mouthwashing fandom is still so new and i haven’t really seen any black reader stories for curly (or really anyone) except for @grimmsbride who i’ve seen writing for curly and daisuke (check them out!).

because i still want an audience to cater to (and i don’t know what demographic i’m actually pulling from my fics), i would say yes and yes to your question about curly’s mom in good luck, captain. i could definitely see her being prejudice to reader if they’re poc and is most definitely a toxic boy mom. whatever the case is for you, she’ll never really see you as the best fit for her son.

as for jimmy, i’ve mentioned he grew up with curly in happy birthday, jolene. she just sees him as another son just based on shared history and proximity. he’s family.

i haven’t thought much about curly’s dad and just now realized i probably should have included him and his reaction to the tuplar crash in best wishes, curly. i feel that curly really favors his father and i hinted in dream of fish that his mom doesn’t really like that. as it’s been previously mentioned, he lives in australia and had most of the custody over curly. i imagine him as a really chill dude who’s really really funny and charming and likes to explore. he’d probably get remarried to someone who shares his humor and sense of adventure. when reader and curly are dating, she’s only spoken to mr. curly a few times over facetime or skype. but he likes you and accepts you as his son loves you tons. he let curly propose to you in his home.

i would say that during the events of best wishes, curly, he didn’t come visit you in person as it was hard for him to handle the loss of his son but he did call from time to time. even when curly came back, it was still tough for him to see his son but he still maintains a relationship with him.

curly respects his mom but there is a limit to their relationship. he did go to school in australia and came to stay with her on breaks - he didn’t get to see her all the time and as he grew, he tries to maintain a healthy and balanced relationship with her. he got closer to her when he decided to go to college in the united states and she really takes advantage of their proximity. i wouldn’t say she’s grooming him. she left a marriage that she felt wasn’t perfect and would lonve to be involved in curly’s decisions when it comes to who he’s in love with. sometimes she’ll suggest the daughters of her friends from work or church bc she thinks they’ll fit in her idea of what curly’s family and future should look like.

over time, i feel that she would be jealous of reader bc she got the family that mrs. former curly wanted.

mr. curly and mrs. former curly just fell out of their rhythm. they were high school sweethearts and had the perfect white picket fence life and it just didn’t work out one day. after countless arguments, curly’s dad decided to file for divorce and mrs. former curly signed them in a heartbeat. obvs curly was confused and heart broken as his parents did a good job hiding their issues and he couldn’t fathom why they would separate. having to go back and forth between continents was stressful at first but it became a routine for him.

and no worries about the length of your ask. i appreciate your interest in good luck, captain! happy holidays to you too!

[cherub-berry]

*:..｡o○ CRAVING SMOKE | Porco Galliard x Reader

╰┈➤ Contents: fem! reader, both Porco and reader smokes cigarettes, reader wears glasses, reader is an eldian nurse, reader carrying an injured man, mention of injury, mention of war, the aftermath of war, guilt, survivor guilt, cigarette kisses, Porco opening up, mention of Marcel, teasing and banter, writer is not good with grammar

╰┈➤ Word count: 5.9k

╰┈➤ Note: this is inspired by my illustration of Porco. I also wanted to thank my friend Ari for co-writing this fic with me, with out their help I don't think I can finish this, so a big applause for Ari!

The smell of blood and fear lingered in the air, clinging like a vice. The war had ended or so they said. But for the war veteran and survivor, it was a never-ending cycle. He stood atop his titan, smoke rising from its neck as the giant's body slumped to the ground. Porco Galliard, or as most people knew him, the Jaw Titan. The sky, once a clear blue, now darkened to shades of purple and orange, a beautiful scene if he didn’t notice the endless bodies beneath him. Eldians and Marleyans alike lay caught in the crossfire, everyone is a victim of war, even if they never participated.

Porco wishes he were a simple man with a simple dream, but what he wants is anything but simple. Yet here he is, bloodied and brooding, weighed down by the weight of a wish he never truly understood. He got what he wanted, one of the Nine Titans, but at what cost? Marcel’s death? Bertholdt’s fate? Or even the betrayal that still hangs between him and Reiner? The power, the legacy—it all feels hollow now, a cruel reminder of the sacrifices made. Each Titan form, each battle, has only deepened his pain, leaving him to wonder if the price was ever worth it.

He watches as the Warrior candidates celebrate, hugging and cheering for Gabi Braun, elated by the success of her sacrifice. He can't help but smile, ruffling her head as if to say, "Good job." But as he watches them, a bitter knot tightens in his chest. Their troop is dwindling at a rapid pace. Every single day, the enemy's weapons grow deadlier, more advanced, more terrifying. Porco himself almost tasted death recently, saved only by the Armored Titan, Reiner Braun. Meanwhile, the Warriors’ tent is filled with the sounds of laughter, men drinking tasteless alcohol and eating MREs to their heart's content. They laugh as if they don't care about what awaits them when they return home or if they'll ever return at all.

The night drags on, and eventually, the lights in the tents fade to black. Everyone is deep asleep, like corpses, except for Porco. War Chief Zeke Yeager is awake too. Zeke is focused on a book—a children's book, of all things. How peculiar, Porco thought. But this is Zeke, no one can ever guess what he's really thinking. A metallic mug of coffee is clutched in Zeke's left hand, while his right flips through the pages of the book.

"Stop staring so much, you're going to make me blush," Zeke muttered, his eyes still transfixed on the pages.

Porco raised an eyebrow, gesturing toward the book. "Is it interesting? I mean, it’s a children’s book."

Zeke glanced up briefly, taking a sip of his coffee. "It has its charms. You never know until you read it."

Porco smirked. "Charms? For a kid’s story?" He sat up on his cot. "You’re not getting soft on me, are you?"

Zeke chuckled, eyes back on the book. “Soft? Perhaps. We need more simple things in a chaotic world that's going to fall apart”

The Jaw Titan studied him for a moment, watching as the man in front of him tracing the book cover. He shrugged “can’t say I found comfort in kids’ stories. But hey, if it helps you sleep at night…”

After a long pause, Zeke smiled at him. Closing the book and finishing his coffee. “The world needs hope more that it needs war, even if it's for a brief moment”

The night hung heavy around them as Porco fell silent, he can't lie Zeke is a very interesting person, but also a dangerous one.

"Gonna go smoke for a bit," Porco said, breaking the silence.

"If I were you, I wouldn't," Zeke muttered. "The war is over for us, but not for the nurses. It’s chaos out there.”

Porco ignored Zeke’s warning and headed out into the night. The cold air hit him immediately, as a gust of wind tousled his hair. He pulled his jacket tighter around himself, exhaling smoke into the crisp night. The silence outside was different—empty, almost suffocating. He stood there for a while, letting the chill sink in, his thoughts drifting as the smoke swirled upward. Zeke’s words echoed in his mind, but he pushed them aside.

He lights a cigarette and exhales a cloud of nicotine into the frigid air, the wind growing sharper and colder. He glances into the distance, where the medical tents stand far from the others. The muffled sounds of screaming and crying drift toward him. Unlike the warriors' tent—silent, warm, and inviting, the medical tents are bright, chaotic, and soaked in blood. Curiosity tugs at him, and he steps closer. The screams grow louder, and he sees nurses rushing about, covered in blood, their faces hidden behind masks and surgical gloves.

The head nurse stumbles by, her eyes wide with panic as she clutches the gruesome bandage “what are you doing here!? Stay back,” her voice strained. “We're losing him, quickly, morphine!”.

Porco watches in silence, in awe. Cigarette forgotten as the ashes drop down to the dirt floor. Another nurse passed him, not glancing at him. Her gaze never meeting his. Zeke was right, it's war here.

Your hands are shaking as you struggle to open the morphine bottle, the lid slipping from your trembling fingers. As you fumble, your glasses slide down your nose and nearly fall off, but you barely notice, too focused on the task at hand.

Getting a syringe you dipped the needle into the bottle giving it a light tap before injecting it into the dying man, preparing him for the pain that will follow.

Time seemed to slow down for Porco as he watched the nurses rushing to help the unconscious man. Every moment felt stretched, the hurried movements of the medical staff blending into a blur of urgency, while his own focus remained locked on the scene unfolding before him.

But one nurse stood out to Porco—the woman with glasses. She didn’t appear much older than he was, yet she was carrying a half-dead man alone, her movements steady and deliberate despite the heavy burden. The sight of her, focused and determined, carrying the unconscious man toward the operating tent, struck Porco deeply. To him the woman was not only carrying his life, but the hopes of a fallen soldier.

“It's going to be okay Mr. Charlie! You're going to go home soon,” You said, gently lowering him on the bed, reassuring him and also yourself.

Nurses swarmed around the man, preparing him for surgery, while your hand trembled, heavy with the responsibility of his life.Your chest tightens, the weight of the moment pressing down, and your breath catches in your throat. It's the sudden, overwhelming realization of how fragile life is, how much is at stake in this very moment.

“(Name), you did well today. You can take the rest of the night off,” One of the older nurses said, putting on her mask and surgical gloves.

You nod quietly, too exhausted to argue. In truth, you wanted to stay—to assist the nurses, to see the surgery through. But as you turn to leave the surgical tents, the weight of your fatigue pulls you away, each step heavy as you step out into the cool night air.

The breeze brushes against your skin, a soft, fleeting touch, like a kiss that might vanish at any moment. Adjusting your glasses you finally notice a young man staring outside one of the tents, a lit cigarette dangling from his fingers. You approach him and tap his shoulder once—did he not feel it? You tap again, then speak.

“Excuse me, sir, you're not allowed to smoke here.”

“Shit, sorry.” He drops the cigarette and crushes it under his boot. His voice sounds distant, almost detached, but there’s an unmistakable tension in his posture. Though his face remains calm, his eyes reveal a different story, one of turmoil and inner conflict that he’s trying hard to hide.

You look at him from head to toe. You know this man, the infamous Jaw Titan. His face carries the unmistakable feature that haunts Liberio. Nurses often fawn over the warriors, often calling the man in front of you “a handsome asshole with a good heart”. A certain charm behind those cold and rigid eyes that will make people swoon.

Porco’s eyes met yours. And for a moment, your breath catches. There's something undoubtedly intimate in his gaze—unacknowledged attraction. The connection feels so short yet so magnetic, it makes you want his gaze even more.

“You’ve got something on your cheek,” He says, pointing to his face to clarify.

Your eyes widen slightly as you quickly wipe your cheek, only to see the dark stain of blood smeared across your skin. Maybe he wasn’t looking at your eyes after all—maybe it was your cheek he was focused on. A wave of self-consciousness hits you as you glance down at your uniform, now caked in dirt and blood. The grime and the mess suddenly seem more obvious, and you can’t shake the feeling of being exposed, like all the weight of the day’s chaos has left its mark on you.

"Thanks..." The words barely escape your throat, soft and barely audible.

"Mr. Galliard, if you're looking to smoke, I know a place." You clear your throat, hoping the sudden awkwardness doesn’t linger.

He glances at you, then back at the ground. "Oh—uh, sure. Lead the way." His tone is a mix of surprise and something else, almost like he wasn’t expecting an offer, but couldn’t refuse it either.

You lead him into the cool evening, the air carrying a sharp bite that makes the night feel even more isolated. As you walk side by side, the silence between you both is oddly comfortable. The faint crunch of gravel beneath your boots is the only sound, and you’re acutely aware of his presence beside you—his movements casual, but you can tell he’s paying attention to the surroundings.

You guide him to the back of an old, abandoned shed, though calling it a shed feels generous. It’s little more than a crumbling wooden wall with a rusted door, barely standing against the wind. The dim light from the nearby lanterns casts long shadows, adding a sense of quiet intimacy to the moment. It’s a place hidden from prying eyes, and as you both step into the shelter, the world outside feels just a little more distant, a little more forgotten.

“Here we are, enjoy your time Mr. Galliard. Goodnight,” You pivot on your heel and head back toward the nurses' tent, hoping to find some rest or at least a brief moment of peace away from the chaos.

A calloused hand reaches out, brushing against yours. You turn back, and for a split second, you catch the blonde man’s eyes. They flicker from yours to the ground, his brows furrowing in a quiet struggle, as if debating something he can’t quite put into words. He lowers his hand slowly, almost surprised by his own gesture.

“I—uh, forget it. Goodnight,” he mutters, the words awkward and heavy, like he’s wrestling with a thought he isn’t ready to share.

His eyes linger just a little longer than necessary, betraying the quiet curiosity that seems to hang in the air between you—an unspoken desire to know more, but uncertainty keeping him at arm’s length.

You know he wanted to know. The makeshift question barrelling in your head: how did you know this place? The question feels simple yet complicated.

You smile softly at him, feeling the weight of the moment shift. Sliding down the wall, you settle onto the ground, your posture casual but inviting. You pat the spot next to you, looking up at him with a quiet, unspoken request.

"Sit with me?"

For a moment, he hesitates, eyes flicking between the empty space beside you and your face, as if debating whether to break the distance or remain standing. After a beat, he lowers himself slowly, sitting beside you without a word. Shoulders almost brushing, his body heat radiating.

You slip your hand into the pocket of your uniform, pulling out a cigarette box, the edges worn from constant use. You shake it lightly, feeling the last few sticks inside, then retrieve an almost empty lighter, the flame flickering weakly at your fingertips.

“I didn't know nurses can smoke,” He says, you can hear faint hint of a smile in his voice.

“Well, we aren't supposed to,” you reply, taking a drag and letting the smoke curl up into the air, "But I still do anyway.”

He chuckles softly. "I guess some rules are meant to be bent."

You exhale slowly, watching the smoke dissipate in the cool evening air. "Maybe. But it's not exactly the healthiest habit, either way.”

“You should tell that to Zeke.” he says, a grin creeping in.

"The head nurse has," you reply with a dry laugh, "She told him to quit, but he just keeps on going. It’s like telling a cat to stop being a cat." You take a long drag, enjoying the bite of the smoke as you watch the haze swirl around you.

Porco watches you exhale another puff of smoke, his gaze following the way the smoke curls into the air. After a moment, he pulls out his own cigarette and a lighter from his jacket, biting the tip between his lips with a small grunt of concentration. He flicks the lighter, but the flame sputters out before it can catch, the tiny spark vanishing into the cool night. He shakes the lighter impatiently, then tries again, only for it to fail once more. With a frustrated sigh, he tosses the lighter aside with a muttered curse.

“Can I borrow yours?” He points toward your lighter with a half-embarrassed look.

You nod, handing it to him. He takes it and flicks the fuse multiple times, but again, the flame refuses to appear.

"Guess no cigarette for me tonight," he says, a hint of disappointment in his voice, as he hands it back to you. "Lucky you. You've got all the fire."

You chuckle softly, slipping the lighter back into your pocket. "Maybe it’s a sign you’re not meant to smoke tonight."

He smirks, rolling his eyes. "Could be.”

“Here, I'll share mine with you. Get close”

Porco raises an eyebrow, intrigued but cautious. You bring the lit cigarette back up to your lips and position it so the glowing tip is almost exactly in line with his—just a hair's breath apart, the two cigarettes hovering close. He leans in slightly, and you both, without missing a beat, gently bring your lips together, the tips of your cigarettes now nearly touching.

For a brief, intense moment, you both exhale at the same time, the smoke mixing and swirling around you, the soft glow of the lit tips connecting in a silent, almost intimate dance. The flame transfers easily between the cigarettes, igniting his with a soft hiss. He takes a quick drag as you pull back, both of you now holding your cigarettes with your lips.

"Now that’s how you light a cigarette," you say with a grin, watching him as he exhales, a small smile creeping onto his face.

Porco chuckles, still holding the cigarette between his lips. "You’re full of surprises, huh?"

You shrug casually, the smoke trailing lazily in the air. "I like to keep things interesting."

For a moment, the world feels quieter, the shared action something unspoken, just a little closer than it probably should be. A little too intimate than it should be. You lower your hand to the ground, just a breath away from his, the space between your fingers humming with an unspoken promise. You linger there, so close that the air seems to tremble with the possibility of touch, but neither of you moves.

Porco raises an eyebrow, his smirk growing as he glances at your hand, hovering near his. "Careful," he says, voice low, a teasing edge to it. "You might be getting a little too close for comfort."

You hold his gaze, a small, knowing smile playing at the corner of your lips. "Comfort’s overrated," you reply, fingers barely brushing the edge of his.

His eyes flicked between you and your hand. “You're the type to make things complicated, aren't you?

You stretch your body, your spine arching gracefully as you move, the motion fluid and effortless. His gaze follows you, intent and focused, drawn to the curve of your back with an almost predatory intensity. You feel the weight of his eyes on you, but you don't falter. As you shift, your hand drifts even closer to his, the space between you shrinking with every deliberate inch. You hold his gaze, a quiet confidence in your eyes.

"Only when it's worth it," you say, your voice soft but clear, as if the words are as much a challenge as an invitation.

Porco's gaze sharpens, he takes a slow drag from his cigarette, exhaling the gray smoke to the cold night sky. “Is this one of those moments?”

You don’t answer right away. Instead, you shift your hand a fraction closer, just enough to send a jolt of tension through the air. "Maybe," you say softly. "Maybe not."

His lips quirk upward, the challenge in his eyes clear. "You’re a tease. I kind of like it.”

The air hangs heavy with tension, thick and almost suffocating. Neither of you dares to move, as if any shift would shatter the moment. The silence between you is electric, every heartbeat magnified, the space between you pulsing with something unspoken.

“You're not going to make this easy, aren't you?” He asked, voice husky and hushed.

“Where's the fun in easy?”

"I like seeing how far I can push before things... change," you murmur, your eyes locking with his, daring him to respond.

He leans in, just a fraction, closing the distance with a teasing, almost unreadable look. "Is that what you want? To see what happens when everything shifts?”

You challenge him with a quiet smile. “Maybe I do”

Porco’s gaze flickers from your eyes to your lips, his breath catching ever so slightly. His pulse quickens, the subtle shift in his expression betraying the tension building between you both. There’s a brief hesitation, a quiet moment where it feels like time itself has paused, before his focus sharpens again, drawn in by something deeper, something he can’t quite pull away from.

“You're going to keep looking, or do something about it?” You challenged.

He chuckles softly, a low rumble vibrating between you two. “You sure you want me to?”

“You're the one getting closer.”

His hand shifts just slightly, brushing against yours, and for a split second, you think he might pull away. But then, his fingers curl around yours, slow and deliberate, the touch grounding in a way that feels more intimate than anything that’s come before.

"Guess you’re right" he murmurs, his voice barely above a breath. "Maybe I’ve already done something about it ”

You take his hand in yours, your fingers gently tracing the rough lines of his calloused skin. The touch is tender, lingering, as if you're mapping out the very contours of his hand, feeling the strength in every worn ridge.

His soft lips graze yours, a delicate touch that lingers in the air. The scent of cigarettes, faint and smoky, clings to him, but it fades as you close your eyes and melt into his kiss. In that moment, the world blurs—the chaos, the noise—everything softens, leaving just the rhythm of his breath and the warmth of his presence.

The touch of his warm hand feels like a warm lantern in the dark and cold of the night. It's a comfort, a reassurance that you never knew you needed until now. You wish for nothing more than his touch, his presence, to stay with you, to never let go. In this fleeting moment, everything else fades away, and all that matters is the warmth of his hand in yours. You never want to leave this small, perfect moment.

You pull apart first, your cheek flushed, the rush of blood making your head spin. You’ve kissed others before—men and women, but none of those kisses were like this. Not this urgent, not this brief. There’s something about it that stirs something deeper inside you. You feel shy, vulnerable, as if something sacred has just unfolded between you. His warm eyes meet yours, looking at you with such intensity that it threatens to overwhelm you. Something catches in your throat, and you blink rapidly, fighting back tears. It’s a moment you never want to forget, a fleeting piece of time you wish you could hold on to forever.

“Are you okay?” He asked softly, hand caressing yours.

You swallow, steadying your breath. “I—yeah, just… I never felt like this. Its so different.”

“Different good, I hope?” He said softly, placing his forehead gently against yours.

You nodded, the closeness is making your heart race. “Yeah, different good”

He stays there for a heartbeat longer, unwilling to pull away, as if afraid the quiet connection between you might vanish the moment he does. The world around you is eerily still—too still for a soldier like him. It feels too gentle, too faint, a softness he's not accustomed to. His heart beats faster, the silence pressing in around you both.

You rest your head to his shoulder, looking at the cigarette in your hand so fondly. “It's so…quiet”

He shifts slightly, his warmth pressing against you, grounding you in the quiet. “Yeah,” he says softly, his voice almost drowned by the peace surrounding you both. “Feels strange, doesn’t it?” He takes a long drag from his cigarette, the smoke curls upwards, disappearing into the night.

“I feel like a storm is about to happen” You whispered, voice certain. The words hang in the air, as if they were supposed to happen.

He turned towards you, his expression unreadable for a moment as he studied your face. "Ugh, I hate this," He muttered, a dry humor lacing his voice. "After this hell of a storm, there's another one waiting. What a drag." He let out a short, humorless chuckle, but his face remained unreadable, the tension in his eyes betraying the joke.

“A warrior can’t catch a break, huh?” You teased, a grin playing at the edges of your lips.

“Nope,” he shot back, the word blunt, almost with a hint of amusement, as if the irony of it all wasn’t lost on him.

“Honestly, if I were a Titan Shifter, there’s no way I’d have the guts to bite my hand or slice it open to transform,” You say, chuckling at the thought of it.

He takes a drag from his cigarette, exhaling the smoke with a grin. "You should try it, it’s a real rush." He taps the cigarette, letting the ashes fall to the ground.

You shake your head, smiling “Uh—huh, sure. ‘cause nothing says fun like turning into a giant nutcracker wrecking everything in sight.”

“It's oddly therapeutic, you should try it sometime. Nothing like the feeling of smashing stuff to really clear your head.”

The banter continues, but with each passing minute, the mood shifts. Your laughter fades, swallowed by the deeper currents of the conversation. You both sit there, the world moving around you, but the two of you remain anchored to the moment, surrounded by the haze of smoke and words that were meant to be light but now feel heavy.

Your cigarette, now little more than a smoldering nub, threatens to fall, but neither of you moves to snuff it out. It's one of those moments that doesn’t seem to need much attention, as if the world’s outside the bubble you’ve created. A bubble where jokes come easy and laughter rings free, even though neither of you could be further from truly being carefree.

You glance over at him—the man beside you, Porco Galliard. The man who has seen and done things you couldn’t even begin to imagine. The man whose hands have taken countless lives for the sake of his country, soldiers who never had a chance. The man who wears the burden of the Titan Shifters curse like a second skin. And yet, despite all of that, here he is, sitting beside you, casually flicking ash from his cigarette as if this were the most normal conversation in the world.

"You think smashing things is fun?" you ask again, this time with less sarcasm, more curiosity. A genuine question.

Porco pauses, his gaze shifting toward the horizon for a moment. When he speaks, his voice is steady but edged with something darker. "I'm smashing things because of orders. It's not fun at all. It's torture.”

“You ever get tired of it?" You ask, not sure what answer you're hoping for. You expect him to laugh, to brush it off, maybe even make another joke. But instead, he seems to sink deeper into his thoughts, his gaze fixed on something distant.

“Tired? You don't get tired. You just keep going, that's all you can do. You just keep moving and hope that you're not too far gone to realize you've lost everything.”

His words hang in the air, heavy and final, but you can see it in his eyes—he knows the truth. He’s lost everything. The weight of it settles around him like a shroud, suffocating, unspoken. He still has his parents, but that’s not enough. Not without Marcel. Without Marcel, what’s left for him? The bond they shared, the brotherhood, was the one thing that tethered him to something real, something that made the endless violence and sacrifice bearable. But now, in the aftermath, it’s all gone.

You listen to Porco’s words, and for a moment, the air between you feels thick, like there’s more than just the weight of the conversation in that space. There’s something you both share now, something you never thought you’d relate to.

Your fingers brush the cold metal of the lighter in your pocket, instinctively reaching for it. You’ve held it a thousand times before, but tonight, it feels heavier than it ever has. The two wings carved into the surface—delicate and intricate—are a reminder of a place you can never go back to, a memory that’s already fading at the edges. A gift from back home. A piece of something you’ve left behind, but it doesn’t feel like a gift anymore. It feels like a weight.

Guilt surges up from somewhere deep inside you, twisting your stomach. You close your eyes for a brief second, overwhelmed by the flood of memories that rush in. Home, warmth, faces you can’t recall without pain. The weight of responsibility that was thrust upon your shoulders—too young, too unprepared, yet here you are, carrying the same heavy burden that Porco now bears, the same impossible task of surviving a world that seems to demand too much.

Your hand tightens around the lighter, but the feeling of loss doesn’t ease. It only makes the ache sharper, a reminder that you can’t go back, and you can’t undo what’s already been done.

“I have also lost some important people in my life, the people that have shaped me to be who I am now.”

The words slip out before you can stop them, and for a brief moment, you almost regret saying anything at all. But there's a truth in it, something raw and real that hangs in the air between you both. The people who helped mold you, who gave you purpose, who made you feel human—those are the ones that stick with you, long after they’re gone. And it’s their absence that leaves the deepest scars.

“It’s like they’re still with you, but not really,” you add, your voice distant. “You carry them with you, but sometimes it feels like they’re just ghosts. And all you can do is try to make sense of it all, even when it doesn’t make sense anymore.”

"You know," he says after a beat, the humor in his voice gone, replaced by something more subdued, "sometimes I wonder if I'd be less of a mess if he was still around. Maybe he could’ve talked me out of some of the shit I’ve done.”

You don’t respond right away. The shift in his tone isn’t lost on you. It’s not the playful jab you’d been expecting, but something rawer, something closer to the truth than either of you had expected to share.

"You don't need him to tell you what’s right or wrong, Porco," you say softly, trying to keep the conversation grounded. "You’ve been making your own choices for a long time now. Maybe it’s time you stop leaning on ghosts to figure out what you’re doing.”

Porco’s gaze flickers toward you, a wry smile tugging at his lips, though it doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Guess you’re right. But it sure would’ve been nice to have someone who actually got it. Someone who didn't treat me like a fucking weapon.”

You feel the words hit you harder than expected. "You know, you’re not just a weapon, Porco. And you’re not the only one who's ever felt like one." The words spill out before you can stop them, the quiet vulnerability in your own voice surprising even you. You didn’t expect to be the one offering comfort here, but somehow, it feels right.

Porco takes a long moment to respond, staring at the cigarette between his fingers before flicking the ash off into the night. “Yeah, well, it’s hard not to feel like one when that’s all anyone’s ever used you for.”

You don’t have an answer for that. Instead, you let the quiet settle in again, the space between you two filled with an understanding that doesn’t need words.The conversation, like everything else, eventually fades into something quieter, easier. But there’s still the lingering feeling that, despite the ghosts, despite the weight of everything that’s been said and done, you’re both still here. Still standing. Still breathing.

“Maybe one day we’ll stop letting the past haunt us so much,” you say, almost to yourself, more as a hope than a statement. "Maybe then we’ll figure out who we really are, without all the ghosts.”

Porco glances at you, that familiar smirk returning, though there’s something softer about it now. "Maybe. But I wouldn’t hold my breath."

You grin, nudging him lightly with your shoulder. “Yeah, well, we’ve been breathing this long, haven’t we?”

The two of you share a quiet laugh, and for a moment, the world feels a little lighter, the weight of the past suspended in the air around you. The sound of your laughter breaks the tension, and you take a deep breath, letting it all go for just a second.

You glance down at the short bud of your cigarette, finally snuffing it out on the ground, watching as the small amber glow fades.

"This has been one interesting conversation, don't you think?" you say, a grin tugging at the corners of your lips.

"Yeah, it has been," he says, his voice softening a bit. "I kinda enjoyed this..." He glances at you for a moment, his expression unexpectedly earnest, before looking down and snuffing out his own cigarette.

You yawn, the small droplets of tears gathering at the corners of your eyes. The conversation had been so engaging, so full of playful teasing and back-and-forth, that you hadn't even noticed how tired you were becoming. The words and laughter had kept you wide awake, but now, with the sudden stillness between you two, the exhaustion caught up to you all at once.

You rub your eyes, stifling another yawn, and glance at Porco. "Guess I didn’t realize how tired I was," you admit, your voice a bit slower now. "This conversation’s been so much fun, I almost forgot about sleep.”

Porco glances at you, a small smirk tugging at his lips. "Didn’t think a conversation could wear you out," he says, his tone light but with a hint of amusement. "Guess I’m just that interesting, huh?"

You let out a soft laugh, rubbing your eyes. "I think it’s just a combination of you and how late it’s gotten.”

Feeling the drowsiness creeping in fully now. Porco watches you for a moment, his smirk replaced with something more genuine. "Take care of yourself, alright? Don’t keep your bed waiting.”

You flash him a tired smile, nodding.”I'll try, need a shower first though. See you around, Mr. Galliard.”

You pivot on your heel, heading toward the nurses' barrack, but suddenly stop, realizing you’ve forgotten something. Turning back, you casually call over your shoulder, “Oh, and if you ever need some tender, love, and care, just head to the Marley Military Hospital and ask for (Name) (Last name).” You drop your name nonchalantly, a playful glint in your eyes.

As you glance back, you catch Porco scratching the back of his neck, his ears tinged pink, a smirk tugging at his lips. He seems caught off guard, yet amused by your casual remark.

The man glanced at you one last time before walking back in the opposite direction, a strange warmth settling in his chest. There was a sense of closeness, an unspoken connection that lingered in the air. He knew he’d see you again.

As he entered the barrack and made his way to his cot, a giddy excitement bubbled up inside him, the feeling of anticipation and something more—something he couldn’t quite place, leaving him smiling to himself as he settled in for the night.

As he lay down on his cot, the blanket feeling unusually warm around him, a smile spread across his face. There was something about the way you had casually dropped your name, something about the playful teasing and the easy way you two had connected, that had stirred something inside him. It wasn’t just the usual flirtation, it felt like the start of something new, something exciting.

He turned onto his side, eyes closing, but his mind was far from the quiet darkness of the barracks. Instead, it was filled with the memory of your smile, the sound of your voice, and that small spark of warmth he couldn’t ignore.

His heart thudded with that familiar feeling like the glow of a new flame flickering to life. It was different from anything he’d felt before, but it was real. He could feel it deep in his chest, the flutter of excitement, the anticipation of what might come next.

He chuckled quietly to himself, shaking his head as he finally allowed himself to drift off to sleep, his thoughts still lingering on you. He had a feeling that this new connection—this spark was only just the beginning.

Just like the cigarettes, the two of you had snuffed out the conversation, the words fading into silence. What had been a lively, playful exchange now rested quietly, the air still with the echoes of your teasing and laughter. As the both of you walked away, the moment came to an end, leaving behind a comfortable sense of finality, like the last ember of a cigarette dying out. The connection had been made, and now, it was simply a matter of waiting for the next time.

[toshidou]

I also think about the Valeria snippet you let us have a sneak peek, shes so [sighs dreamily]

since it's taking me so damn fucking long to finish it, i'll give you another little snippet <33

Hot pink blurs past your peripheral vision, eyes unable to track the movement as they disappear under your chin, and suddenly you’re all too aware of the pressure against your windpipe, lungs screaming as they’re cut off from much needed oxygen. It’s as though that singular movement choked the last of your self-restraint from an already fragile mind, your mouth opening before you have the chance to even stop it, not to release a strained wheeze, not to beg for her mercy, but instead, your lips part and you whine. The sound so deprived and desperate that the grip around your throat loosens, another whimper echoing off bloodied walls at the loss of her touch, your head craning forward, pushing yourself back into her deft hands.

“Diego. Out.”

“Valer—”

“Fuera. Ahora. Or I’ll feed you to my fucking dogs.”

[seaglassdinosaur]

I know we collectively agree that Hiccup isn’t romantically inclined, and his getting married and having kids didn’t make sense in the epilogue, but consider: Hiccup getting married for political reasons.

It’s a marriage of alliance, which is recognized both by him and his partner, and they enter it without expectations of romantic involvement. Since they’re now married, they live in the same castle, spend time together, and Hiccup finds he really likes his spouse. They’re funny, get along with his friends, and has the same interests and values. They both probably speak multiple languages. She understands why Hiccup is so dedicated to making the Wilderwest better, and holds similar views. She’s a good politician (her job after all, was to be an ambassador). Hiccup likes spending time with them, and the feeling is mutual. They’re not in love, they have their own lives, but they’re dedicated to each other and eventually decide to raise children. They teach their kids how to train hawks and hunt with dragons, riding, history, the Languages, and all the necessary skills of their world. They’re not in love and they’re happy together.

[night-triumphantt]

I don’t Care about the ships WHERE IS JINX

[aj-thegreatest]

Me wanting the Dungeon Meshi: Falin Solo Spinoff series knowing damn well that’s never happening

[whenthegoldrays]

and like, despite the deliciously shippable couples it has, Twinkling Watermelon is not a romcom, it’s a fantasy coming-of-age. the theme is family, the main relationship is between Eun Gyeol and his father and while their respective romantic storylines are crucial, they’re not central.

which is nice, on the one hand, because it offers a slightly different (and beautiful) kind of story, but then because instead of being [main couple] > [second couple] it’s [son and dad] > [son’s gf and mom], it ends up letting down Eun Yoo and Cheong-ah a bit and leaving their resolutions a bit rushed / open ended (you know, like how in other shows you’ll see the second couple standing together at the main characters’ wedding but no actual, solid resolution).

so the final scene of the show is primarily a bonding moment and a resolution for Yichan and Eun Gyeol, and you don’t get much of Cheongchan and a very quick last-moment wrapping up of Euneun (and like. what happened to our girls in the years in between?? we need answers!)

[arolesbianism]

Thinking abt Sif Odile duo looping au again and I wanna be able to plot everything out more coherently but act 5 eternally looms overhead and boy I do not wanna look up

[withonelook]

tatimaxxing (something big just happened to me but i can't talk about it on this blog because ive posted face)