#new comfort ship acquired?

[hermannsprecursors]

So uh the 2001 A Space Odyssey fandom has a LOT of crossover with the IHNMAIMS fandom. So uh that's cool.

Anyway here are my 2 bits on that. Y'all can make the funny androids kiss I'm making the funny deranged men they tormented make out lmao. Crackship king at it again.

They went home and fucked, probably.

Thank you for your time let me know if you want more. I drew this instead of doing my AP statistics homework.

[storywriter007]

request: 2) This one is Percy Jackson x reader who gets seriously injured on the Argo II and tries to act like it's not that bad but then Percy (her boyfriend) forces her to let him look at it and it is really bad and he takes care of her and comforts her (kinda like the Leo fic where he cleans the wound on her back because I love that one so much), and then helps her fall asleep after.

You're Alright - Percy Jackson x Fem!Reader

author's note: i didn't want to do the same injury again, so i tried something new. i hope you like it :)

-> @c-evans-lover22

warnings: cursing, mentions of injury

genre: fluff

word count: 933

-> heroes of olympus masterlist

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send me requests here! (these are my guidelines)

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y/n's eyes filled with tears as she sat on the floor of the infirmary. how could this have happened? well, she knew exactly how it had happened.

one of gaea's mountain minions attacked the argo ll, and hurled rocks at the ship. they escaped, but not before a huge rock smashed into y/n's ankle. she had basically crawled to the infirmary.

she couldn't bring herself to stand up, her ankle wouldn't support her. she unlaced her high-tops, and tried to pull the shoe down.

"ow!" she whispered to herself. "ow, ow, ow, ow."

she managed to pull it off after immense pain. she carefully removed her sock and got to look at the beautiful sight that was her foot. it was bleeding, it was swollen, and it was just hideous. she tried to grab a towel, so she could wipe the blood off, but unfortunately, she was capable of nothing. she couldn't move and if she did, she'd knock everything over.

"y/n?" a voice called throughout the hallways. "y/n? oh, there you are!"

percy came into the infirmary.

"hey." she smiled.

"what're you doing on the floor-what happened?" he asked, looking at her disgusting ankle.

"nothing, i just got hit." she said, trying to hide the tears that had welled up in her eyes. "i'm fine."

"you're not fine. you're sitting on the floor of the infirmary with a swollen, bloody ankle that doesn't let you stand." he said, almost offended.

"it's really not that bad-"

before she could finish her sentence, she felt herself get picked up and placed on the exam table. she felt embarrassed at how warm her face felt. he picked her up so easily. he brought another exam table and put the together in an l-shape. he then took her leg and put it on the table he had brought over.

"thank you." she smiled. "but seriously percy-"

"you can do it on your own?" he chuckled. "i'm here for you y/n. please, accept my help."

she silently nodded as percy grabbed a towel and wet it with warm water. he gently wiped the blood away.

"let me know if anything hurts."

"i will."

percy washed her foot and ankle with soap and water. after that, he dried the area. instead of bloody and swollen, now it was just swollen.

"this is going to burn." he warned, before pressing the towel to the various small cuts she had acquired.

y/n hissed in pain.

"you're alright." he assured.

he kept going, until he got to her toes. when there wasn't a cut, it didn't burn, but when there was, it hurt like hell. afterwards, he put small band-aids on the cuts. he pressed the swollen spot.

"ouch! percy!" y/n blurted.

"i'm sorry." he said calmly. "i needed to see how bad the swelling was."

"is it bad?"

"nothin' to worry about." he smiled. "you'll be alright."

she felt herself relax. she might've not been able to walk, but she did feel alright.

he grabbed a roll of gauze and began wrapping it around the middle of her foot to her ankle. when he got to the swollen part, it squeezed her ankle, making her hand shoot up and grip percy's bicep.

"y/n, this isn't the best time to feel my muscles." he smiled.

"get your head out of the gutter." she laughed, gently pushing him away.

when percy was done wrapping her ankle up, she felt a lot better, but it still hurt. like she had been stabbed straight through the bone and with every movement of her foot, the knife bent inside of her. he gave her a little bit of ambrosia for the pain. percy quickly cleaned up and y/n tried to slide off the exam table but was stopped by percy putting her back in place.

"you can't put weight on it." he said, concern flooding his voice.

he cared. somebody cared. percy picked her up bridal style and walked out the infirmary. he set her down on her bed, and made a pillow mountain for her to keep her foot on.

"let me know if you need anything." he said, sincerity in his eyes.

"yeah." she paused. "can you, uh, stay here?"

"yeah." he smiled. "i can."

he laid down behind her, and pulled her down so she was laying on his chest while keeping her foot elevated. she could feel his breath down her neck as his arms wrapped around her. he smelled like salt-water and vanilla. she felt herself physically relax as she melted into his warm touch.

"thank you." she said, turning around to see his sea green eyes.

"always." he smiled.

they looked at each other for a moment before percy leaned down and kissed her. it was slow, and y/n was about to turn around so she could put her hands on him.

"no, you stay that way." he demanded, pulling back from the kiss.

"you're no fun." she whined, feeling percy turn her back around.

after an hour, y/n felt herself completely relax. her body felt fine, her mind was at peace, and for once, she didn't feel like the world had it out for her (even though it did, and that's why she had a swollen ankle). but for once, everything just felt alright. as she became one with percy's firm grip, the lights began to dim and her eyelids felt heavy.

"percy?" she whispered.

"i forgot to tell you i gave you a sleeping medicine." he whispered back.

"percy!" she whined, before falling asleep.

[tetsuskei]

notes: repost from my old blog, based on an old post and brief convo w rei @/sir-kuroo. divider by the great remi @/cafekitsune <3

warnings: office au, self indulgent, reader is a few years younger than kuroo

“do you come here often?”

kuroo tetsurou, a colleague, slides up next to you in the breakroom. his personality is suave and carries an air of sharpness, yet warmth and comfort. he’s always gone out of his way to make those around him feel welcome, and you’re no short of that. if you could think of a household name for your company, it would be his. many speak of him but rarely do many actually see him.

you wonder what’s made him grace yourself with his presence—coincidence, or fate?

he grins boyishly, rocking his feet as he looks at you with the most shining (and pretty) hazel eyes.

you blink slowly, processing his words.

“um…i work here. we’re coworkers.” you answer slowly, nodding to your work badge before resuming your activity of making your daily coffee. your heart starts to race at being watched and you try not to spill anything.

you don’t blame kuroo for not knowing exactly who you are. you work in the art department while he does promotion. you’re like two ships sailing past each other in the night. you’ve crossed paths a few times during brainstorming sessions and kickoffs for projects, but you never fully interacted before. at least not directly. only short pleasantries have ever been shared between each other.

the man’s face pales, smile faltering as you unintentionally dismiss his—quite sad—attempt at getting with you. he quickly regains confidence, though.

you hear him laugh softly before he shifts his weight to his opposite foot. “well just as i thought. i guess that means we work together, huh?”

kuroo watches your nose crinkle cutely as you frown and then laugh nervously, “kuroo-san, i don’t mean to say this with any disrespect, but if you’re still confused, i can contact HR for you.” maybe because you’re new he doesn’t know you’re a full time employee. did he think you were a temp? a freelancer?

and as crushed as kuroo currently is, his heart flutters at the way you say his name. he doesn’t know how, but your obliviousness is endearing and wholesome. he only wishes to grab you by the shoulders and shake you, to make you see what he’s trying to say.

the reality is, he’s seen you around many times. only just now did he work up his own courage to start a full fledged conversation with you. you’re very cute. shy, he can tell. but that only makes him more intrigued and persistent in getting to know you. you remind him a lot of kenma, actually.

said best friend implied kuroo was being shy himself, but he’ll deny it to the grave. he’s too stubborn to take his advice on how to approach you.

and the result? an embarrassingly horrible joke he came up with due to word vomit. he didn’t expect to run into you, but by the grace of god, you’d been right where you are, and he did not want to miss this opportunity.

he rubs the back of his head. “ahh no. i don’t need that, but thanks. i appreciate it.” he says, ending his reply with your name.

your eyes widen in surprise. “you…know who i am?” you blink, tilting your head.

kuroo thinks he’s acquiring cute aggression.

he nods, “of course i do. i know the names of practically everyone here.”

“oh.” you say, deflating a little, hope dissolving from your heart. your fingers tap your mug in thought. “right. it was just that…it seemed like you didn’t know i worked here, so i was confused.”

he clears his throat, noticing your dejection, “no! i definitely do! sorry, i worded myself wrong earlier. i-it’s just that—never mind.” he runs a hand over his face, and you’re shocked to see how nervous he suddenly appears. he always seems so confident and sure of himself, you wonder what could be going on now.

“no worries or hard feelings.” you laugh, and his shoulder sag with relief. did you know your voice could be so calming?

the tall man exhales, releasing the rest of his nerves. “allow me to start over. hi, i’m kuroo tetsurou, i work in the promotion department.” he shakes your hand, “i’ve seen your work. it’s really impressive.”

you palm is clammy as you return the handshake and introduction, but the smell of his cologne makes you feel more at ease.

“it’s nice to formally meet you, kuroo-san. you work for the jva is nothing short of amazing.” you reply.

“oh,” he quickly becomes bashful, a humble smile on his face, “it was nothing, really.”

he changes the topic, “but enough about me. back to you. i’ve been meaning to tell you all of that for awhile, but never worked up the courage to. i really should have sooner, i appreciate all that you’ve done to make the jva as successful as it is.” he continues, smiling. he hopes and begs that you don’t see his cheeks turning red.

your expressions lifts again, and kuroo can’t help but notice the small dimple in your left cheek. “thank you! that’s very kind of you, kuroo-san! you didn’t have to thank me at all, i’m just doing my job.”

“that’s true, but you’re very talented. needed to at least acknowledge that.” he nods.

“i guess so! the last project did require a lot of late nights and hard work…” unbeknownst to yourself, you start to ramble about your process.

his perceptive nature looks over your features. he notes the way you hold yourself, fingers fiddling with the sleeves of your sweater–a pink one he’s always been able to identify you by. your eyes seem to travel when they hold contact with someone for too long. you purse your lips when you’re lost in thought. but when you’re comfortable, you use your hands to gesture, expressions surprisingly animated, which make you seem more animated than your usual reserved state.

noticing the way he stares at you, you quickly stop, feeling embarrassed.

“oh! i’m so sorry, i’ve been talking your ear off. you probably didn’t want to know all of that…i bet you’re busy anyways.” you say, bowing out of apology.

kuroo only shakes his head, “ah it’s not a problem at all! you’re truly mistaken! it’s nice listening to how you work. i don’t have a creative bone in my body, so it helps me to understand better. plus, you have a very nice voice.”

wide eyes blink up at him and another smile pops up on your face. you giggle, “thank you! you’re very kind!”

“no problem,” he steps back slightly, clearing his throat, “i know this is the first time we are really talking but…would you…like to get lunch sometime? to get to know each other better?”

you think about work and your connections. as a new employee this would be good for you, right? to build more healthy work relationships. the more people you can know, the better. especially across different departments.

a smile appears on your face and you nod. “why not? should we invite anyone else to join? i think—“

he laughs, shaking his head, “no sweetheart, just you and i.”

you’re stunned. “o-oh…”

“you can say no, i won’t be offended.” he assures.

panic resides in you and you frantically wave your hands. “it’s not that! i’d be more than happy to! i mean, i’ve been looking to get to know you better anyways!”

a hand flies to your mouth and your eyes widen once you realize what you just said.

“w-what i meant was…it’s better to get to know someone 1 on 1 anyways! yanno?” you correct, heart pounding out of your chest. you’re screwed. he’s going think you’re weird.

kuroo smirks, a small hum of appreciation escaping him as he nods, “right, of course. well, i’m glad to hear that. why don’t we exchange numbers ahead of time so we can talk details later?”

after typing each others numbers in, he notices you just entered your first name into his phone.

he softly says it out loud , and a weird, twisting feeling forms in your gut. a small part of you wishes he’d say it again.

“um…you can call me that if you want, but don’t feel pressured to.” you tell him. “i’m just not too big on formality.”

he shakes his head. “not a problem at all. it’s a very lovely name.”

“thanks, kuroo-san.” you beam.

“call me tetsurou. it’s only fair, right?” he winks, patting your shoulder. it shocks you how big his hand is, but you quickly peel your eyes away from it.

he steps back, pocketing his phone before looking at his watch. “well, i should be off now. but we’ll catch up later? i’d love to pick your brain about an upcoming idea.”

“s-sure!” you call, waving after him. “see you, tetsurou!”

he waves back, saying over his shoulder, “do me a favor, yeah?”

“what’s that?”

“remember it’s okay to be proud of your work. you worked hard, so own it.” he says, sending you a warm smile.

“right, i will!” you nod. your heart is full from his advice, and you cling onto his sentiment.

“‘tetsurou’, huh?” your coworker, kazuma, walks up besides you as soon as the rooster head is out of sight. “when did you start getting buddy buddy with the head to the promotion department?”

you raise a brow. “what do you mean? that’s the first time i’ve actually had a full conversation with him. i don’t know why i was so scared to! he’s a very nice guy!” you explain.

he laughs, nodding. “right, ‘nice guy’…”

you blink. “what? did he do something to someone?” you lean in, whispering, “did he like…beat someone up?”

kazuma rolls his eyes, sighing as he fixes his own coffee, “nothing of that sort. you’ll figure it out.”

before you can question him, he turns on his heel and leaves. you start after him, but he’s too fast for you so you give up.

“weird…” you mumble. you shrug before deciding as unfortunate as it is, you should get back to work.

throughout the entire duration of your walk back to your desk, you realize two things.

1, you left your coffee in the break room, and 2–

you notice that under the notes section of kuroo’s contact, he’s put, ‘prospective work husband’.

oh. shit.

that’s what it was.

kuroo was flirting with you the entire time.

reblogs and interactive appreciated!

[ginnsbaker]

the follow up

Summary: Sequel to 'prophylaxis'. Wanda's follow up appointment with you, her dentist. Includes ice cream, Vision playing matchmaker and Wanda's questionable taste in music

Word count: 3k | Warnings: None. Tooth-rotting fluff. Pun intended.

Ship: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader | Platonic Wanda Maximoff X Vision

Author's note: Let's pretend that the Sokovian accords resolved itself without Tony and Steve divorcing | P.S couldn't resist inserting a T.S. lyric (sorry not sorry)

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

-

Wanda Maximoff is strapped to a chair.

Again.

Fortunately, it's not because she'd been caught behind enemy lines or had to be restrained because of those stupid accords that nobody really cares about except Tony and Steve. 

No, Wanda Maximoff is at the dentist's office. 

Again.

Okay, so, she’s not strapped per se, but the patient bib she wears over her clothes certainly feels like one, especially when that chair starts to tilt back as soon as you nudge the adjustor with your foot. It's like being bound in place, just without the actual restraints.

Her lips are dry, and her heart is beating just a little too fast, but not from fear this time. It's a different sort of edginess that Wanda feels, especially when you lean in too close to her face to check her molars. Your face is just inches from hers, eyebrows strewn in concentration and eyes focused. Wanda tries to look away, but there's nowhere to look except the ceiling or into those scrutinizing eyes.

It also doesn’t help that you smell absolutely incredible. Last week, you smelled like raindrops on petals. Today, you smell like cinnamon and vanilla, and she finds both scents comforting and addicting. 

“So, Wanda,” you say, your voice calm and gentle, “How have you been taking care of your teeth since the last visit?”

“Uh, fine,” Wanda tries to articulate the words properly but all that comes out is a garbled “ahhh fuh”. You don't mock her in any way; instead, you display an expert understanding of your patients' speech patterns. 

“You've been brushing and flossing?”

Wanda nods.

“Good girl,” you say, and even though your smile is hidden behind the mask, she can still see it in your eyes. They crinkle at the corners, and it just sends something warm and happy in Wanda’s chest whenever she sees it. 

But there’s nervousness, too.

In fact, a lot of things about you make her nervous. After all, your kind used to be the bane of her existence.

You turn away to prepare the necessary tools, and Wanda's mind starts to wander. How many patients do you see in a day? Are you always this nice and charming to them? 

Are they also nervous around you? Or is it just her?

“Alright, Wanda,” you say, turning back to her, your eyes kind and understanding. “Let's get started. Just a small pinch, and you'll feel a little numb.”

She nods again, and the procedure begins. 

As you work, you talk about mundane things and the new plant you acquired over the weekend. You also talk a little about the Avengers compound and the unique experiences that come with being their on-call dentist, especially with a synthezoid who insists on getting their teeth checked. 

Wanda answers more freely now, her initial hesitation gone. She finds herself enjoying your company–enjoying this dental appointment, of all things–and even laughing at some of your anecdotes.

Finally, the fillings are in place, and you help her rinse her mouth.

“See?” you say, patting her shoulder. “That wasn't so bad.”

Wanda beams at you, feeling quite proud of herself. “No, it wasn't. Thank you.”

“There are still three more that might need fillings, but we can schedule that for some other time. Don’t want you to get overwhelmed,” you add with a cheeky wink that has Wanda unwittingly clutching the armchair tightly.

You carefully set your tools down on the tray, giving Wanda some room to breathe. Right then, the numbing effect of the anesthesia begins to fade and Wanda winces, her hand instinctively coming up to her jaw, fingers massaging the area where the discomfort is blooming. 

Seeing her reaction, you recall the ice cream you'd thoughtfully stashed away after she’d confirmed her appointment.

“Feeling a bit tender there?” you ask, moving towards the small refrigerator you keep in the room. “I have just the thing.”

Wanda looks at you curiously as you retrieve a container of Ben & Jerry's Cherry Garcia ice cream. Her eyes widen, and she exclaims, “How did you know this is my favorite?”

You blush as if you’ve been caught doing something you shouldn’t. You hadn't expected Wanda to notice the specific flavor of the ice cream, let alone comment on how suspiciously perfect it was that you picked her favorite. 

“Well, I may have called the Avengers compound and asked around,” you say, sheepishly rubbing the back of your neck. “It was Vision–was it?–who knew. Said you always choose this one.”

You extend the tub of Cherry Garcia to Wanda, and as she takes it, your fingers briefly brush against hers. Both of you pause at the unexpected touch, a small gasp escaping her lips. You quickly shift your attention to the utensil drawer, pulling out a spoon and handing it to her. But instead of digging in immediately, she hesitates, glancing up at you. 

The white mask you're wearing has kept your full face hidden throughout the appointment, and now, she'd be utterly disappointed if she never gets a peek at your face, which is partly the reason she agreed to come here in the first place.

Wanda Maximoff can’t have that. After sitting through an hour in that torture chair, she needs to be rewarded. And not just with ice cream. 

“Would you... would you like to share it with me?” she asks hesitantly, trying to be subtle–

 “I'd really like to see your face, just once.”

–and then failing at subtlety half a second later.

You blink, surprised at her straightforwardness, and feel a deeper blush spread across your cheeks. Her request is unconventional, yes, but it's also earnest and endearing. Slowly, you reach up and remove the mask, unveiling the smile that Wanda's been so desperate to see.

“Well, I do have quite the sweet tooth, so I couldn't possibly refuse.” you say.

You sit side-by-side on the coach, your knees touching ever so often. You occasionally find yourself pointing to Wanda's lips, indicating where she needs to wipe away the stray cream. Wanda blushes at your attentiveness, but she can't help but appreciate the caring gesture.

Wanda truly wants to prolong this moment, this unexpected opportunity to have you all to herself. But as delightful as the company is, ice cream has its own rules, and it's not much enjoyable when it's melted. So, despite her desire to make the moment stretch on, the ice cream is finished in under ten minutes. 

Staring at the empty tub, the idea that she might not be the only one to experience this side of you fills her with both reassurance and a hint of envy. Wanda can't help but wonder if there's something special about the connection you share during these brief appointments, or if your comforting demeanor is simply part of being a skilled and compassionate dentist.

Either way, she wants to do something with you that would set her apart from all your other patients.

“Um, so,” she begins, fumbling with her words, her eyes darting around the room before landing on yours. “I was thinking, you know, if you're not too busy or anything, maybe we could... do this again? Not the dental part!” she quickly adds, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “I mean, maybe dinner, or a movie, or whatever you like? If you want to, of course.”

You look at her with wide eyes, mouth slightly agape, as if you're trying to catch the words that just slipped out of her mouth. Is it a date? Is it just a friendly outing? Regardless, it's not typically professional to see a patient outside of the clinic, especially one as renowned as Wanda Maximoff. 

“Wanda,” you start. “You’re interesting, funny, and truly amazing.”

You watch as Wanda’s face becomes hopeful, which makes you want to strangle yourself for what you have to say next. 

“But I’m sorry, I can’t. I have to consider the professional boundaries that I need to maintain.”

Wanda's eyes widen momentarily, and then she quickly masks her disappointment with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Oh, of course, I understand,” she says, her voice light, but not quite reaching her eyes. “I shouldn't have asked. It was silly of me.”

But you can see the hurt in her eyes, the way her shoulders slump just a little, the way her smile doesn't scrunch her nose the way it normally does. She's trying to brush it off, to act like it doesn't matter, but you can tell that it does.

With that, your time together draws to a close. You ask Wanda if she wants to schedule another filling for her remaining molars, but she merely shakes her head, telling you she'll have to think about it. Her eyes avoid yours, and her voice is distant, a clear indication of how your rejection has affected her.

You watch her walk away, a part of you wishing you could call her back, and another part knowing that you made the right choice. 

It's the first time you experience a profound sense of loathing towards your profession as a dentist.

You wouldn’t be surprised if they don’t invite you back next year for another routine check-up.

-

Which makes your predicament the following day all the more baffling.

One second, you're tending to a tall, blonde, seemingly ordinary man in your dental chair, going through the routine motions of preparing for a check-up. You turn your back for a moment to prepare your tools, lost in thought and still reeling from yesterday's encounter with Wanda.

When you turn to face your patient again, your heart skips a beat, your hands freezing in place. 

The man is no longer blonde and ordinary but bald and a striking shade of red.

In a snap, it’s another Avenger in your hands.

You clear your throat, forcing a smile as you approach the chair. “Mr. Vision,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady. “I wasn't expecting to see you here.”

Vision is ready to correct you with your use of ‘Mr.’ but then he tilts his head, deciding he likes the title next to his name.

“It's my pleasure to see you, Doctor,” he smiles at you, sitting perfectly still.

You blink at him, still trying to wrap your head around the fact that a synthezoid–one who technically doesn't even have biological teeth–is sitting in your dental chair. You can't help but wonder if this is some kind of joke or if Wanda sent him to kill you.

When you continue to stand unmoving in your position, Vision says, “I’m here for a check-up.”

Huh. 

Okay?

You reach for the mouth mirror and probe, tools typically used for human patients, and hesitate for just a moment. 

How exactly does one perform a check-up on a synthezoid?

Vision seems to read your uncertainty, his crystal-blue eyes meeting yours. “I assure you, I have all the components you would find in a human mouth,” he says. 

You nod, beginning to understand. Gathering your focus, you proceed to perform the unusual check-up he's requesting. As you explore his mouth, you find yourself fascinated by the impeccable craftsmanship that went into creating Vision. Every tooth, every gum, is a perfect imitation of its human counterpart. 

You find yourself feeling a little jealous of his orthodontic assets. 

As you continue the check-up, he starts to share some stories, his voice even and clear despite your probing.

“You know, Wanda once fed an alley full of stray cats during a mission in Bucharest,” he says, a soft chuckle in his voice. “We were on a surveillance assignment, and she noticed them, all huddled together, looking hungry. Before I knew it, she had conjured up bowls of food for them all. It was quite a sight.”

You pause, caught by the image of Wanda surrounded by furry, adorable kittens. “That sounds adorable.” you reply, moving on to examine his upper molars. 'Cute' was the word on the tip of your tongue, exactly what you meant to say. But you know as well as anyone that finding a patient cute is off-limits.

He continues, “Yes, Wanda has a way with things. Once, back at the Avengers HQ, she'd make her dinner portion smaller so the guys with big appetites could eat their fill. Even Natasha, who's quite the cook, found it a stretch sometimes to satisfy the team's hunger.”

And then as he drones on about Wanda, you slowly begin to piece together what's really happening here. Vision isn't just in your clinic for a check-up. 

He's talking up Wanda. 

To you.

As if Wanda even needed talking up.

All you could think about was the brunette with her soulful green eyes and a smile that makes you go weak in the knees. Your heart skips a beat at the very thought of her.

But it's not just because Wanda is your patient that you rejected her. There's the awe and reverence you feel towards her as an Avenger, a symbol of justice and freedom, a hero who seems to belong to the world more than to any one person. And then there's the raw, personal part of you, still healing from a toxic relationship that ended only six months ago.

And as Vision concludes his tales of Wanda by sharing how she's the only one patient enough to show him the ropes of what being human is, you see through his carefully crafted façade. 

He's here to bridge the gap, to make Wanda more accessible, more human in your eyes. He wants you to see her not just as a public figure but as a person with feelings, quirks, and simple kindnesses.

And more than that, he wants you to realize that you're an idiot for saying no to someone as wonderful as Wanda Maximoff.

“You’re not really here for a check-up, are you?” you smile at him knowingly.

Vision looks at you, his synthetic eyes almost mischievous and for a while you forget that he isn’t human. 

He pauses for a moment, as if considering his next words, and then he smiles back.

“No,” he finally says, his voice carrying a hint of both humor and sincerity. “I'm not.”

He then continues, his tone turning thoughtful. “Wanda has been... sulking. For hours, locked up in her room listening to ‘Lips of an Angel’ on repeat. She told me before that I am her 'best friend,'” he says, the term slightly foreign in his mouth. “I looked up what that means, and it included helping her be happy.”

Apart from the reveal of what kind of music Wanda listens to, you feel Vision’s words tugging at your heart strings. Well, at least until he says–

“Natasha explained to me that Wanda is being, as she put it, 'emo' because she got rejected by a possible... sexual mate.”

You'd choke on your water if you were drinking one.

That's not what you expected him to say, not in the least. The sentence hits you like a left-field curveball, utterly disrupting the flow of the conversation. It's so... so... un-Vision-like, and yet, here he is, stating it as matter-of-factly as he might describe the weather.

“Given that, I would like to ask you to reconsider going out with my ‘best friend’.”

You're still coming to grips with everything that's just happened. Vision, Wanda's “best friend” here in your clinic, attempting to play matchmaker. What he's asking isn't small, but the way he's asking, the care he's shown in understanding human relationships, his concern for Wanda's feelings–it all makes you pause.

You think about what you were doing on your computer last night, googling Wanda’s name and trying to find out all you could about the young Avenger.

Finally making a decision, you look up at Vision squarely in the eye. 

“Would you happen to know Wanda’s email address?” you ask, fiddling with the lapels of your white coat. “And also her phone number?”

-

“Oh, thank god,” Natasha sighs as she hears Wanda hit pause on the 46th replay of Lips of an Angel.

Yes, 46. Natasha had made Vision count, and that doesn't include the ones he missed when she urgently dispatched him to you to remediate the Wanda situation immediately.

She hears someone whistling a tune coming from the hallway and is surprised to see Vision, apparently adopting Steve's habit in his eagerness to act more human.

“Mission accomplished?” she asks, her eyes narrowing.

Vision stops whistling, a look of satisfaction in his synthetic eyes. “I believe I made some progress. Our friend has promised to think about reconsidering the decision.”

“Just think about it? You were gone quite a while for a 'maybe.'”

Vision pauses, his head tilting slightly. “I believe I was able to present Wanda in a way that may help our friend realize her feelings for her.”

“You think she has feelings for our Wanda?” Natasha's voice betrays her surprise, and she can't quite catch herself using the word ‘our’. She continues, slightly flustered, “I was thinking maybe she'd just indulge Wanda's crush for a while, then befriend her, so as not to completely shut her down.”

“I observed her vitals while telling her about Wanda, and all the signs point to yes, she has feelings for our Wanda,” Vision answers, thoughtfully echoing Natasha's use of ‘our’. 

She smirks, leaning against the wall. “Well, let's hope your efforts pay off. I can't take another 46 replays of that song.”

Vision stoically considers Natasha's last statement. “Actually, Agent Romanoff, I must disagree. I could listen to another replay. Technically, it's a well-composed song.”

Natasha's face twists into a look of mock disgust. “I swear, if you start advocating for boy bands next, I'm holding Wanda personally responsible.”

“I'll consider that when expanding my musical repertoire.”

She waves a dismissive hand, still grinning. “Just don't start singing in the shower. We've got enough noise in the mornings as it is.”

-

Around the time that Wanda has just hit pause on the Hinder hit that has been playing on loop, a notification sounds off her laptop. 

She quickly turns her attention to it and clicks on the email that has arrived from your clinic. Inside, there's a referral letter personally written by you, referring Wanda to another colleague of yours.

You no longer want to be her dentist, the email makes that clear. Somehow, this hurts more than your rejection of her yesterday.

Before she can fully process the referral, her phone buzzes with a call from an unknown number. She hesitates, before deciding to answer. “Hello?”

“Hi, Wanda. It’s Y/N. F-From the clinic?” you breathe out in a rush, the words tangled with your nerves. Wanda takes note of how your voice sounds over the phone–deeper and more intimate against her ear.

She takes a moment to reply, still a little thrown by the referral. “Oh, hi. I just read your email,” she says.

“Yes, about that…” You trail off, pausing as you try to find the right words. “I was thinking, instead of discussing that over the phone, maybe we could talk about it over dinner on Friday? If you're free–”

“I’d love to,” Wanda quickly accepts, her heart threatening to jump out of her chest.

You try to suppress a chuckle, grateful that Wanda can’t see your cheeks turning a rosy pink. 

“Great! I'll pick you up at seven?"

“Seven it is.” Her reply is soft, almost shy. You say your goodbyes, both of you grinning to yourselves as you both hang up. 

Back in her room, Wanda stares at her phone, a broad smile on her face, touching it as if it's your face.

She presses play on the song once more, not as a lament but as a triumph. 

Much to Natasha’s dismay.

[lesterwillington]

The Original Text for How America Got Its Name

I recently purchased the vinyl for the 1979 version of In Trousers and in the liner notes it has the entire original text for How America Got Its Name. It's quite different from the 1985 version with the main difference being that Marvin is the only one who says anything; it is a solo monologue. There are other differences, but I would rather not list them all out. Anyway, here we go:

Marvin: (Dressed like Columbus) Columbus didn't use to be a sailor. He was first and foremost director of medicine at a prestigious institute for doctors in Eldoro. That's the truth. But nobody ever talks about his medical career anymore. He was embarrassed out of his job. Harassed. Made to be the butt of jokes at medical conventions. This is what happened. One day--now this is the truth--one day outside Poma del Fuego, he picked up a social disease from a man with red hair and broad shoulders like his mother. By the time Columbus got to the Verona Baths, he had cancres all over his chest where once bronze hairs grew. And back at the Institute no one could fail but notice an incredible diminution of intelligence on Columbus' part. He was half insane by the time they strapped him to a ship, and pushed him to sea.

MUSIC

With him on that boat were other socially diseased persons. From the few clippings extant, it appears they had a ball the whole trip and screwed like bunnies, never worrying if finally they were going to contract the dread disease, because they all had it, you see--so they debauched the whole night and awoke refreshed. This went on for thirty-four days.

MUSIC

I am going to discover Cincinnati, Columbus cried. Why Cincinnati, they asked him. For my Aunt Cynthia and Uncle Nathan, he said, who died four years earlier in a plague which my Institute never quite found the cure for. This is what the Jews do, he added, name other countries for the dead.

MUSIC

Halfway out to sea, or on the thirty-fifth day, Columbus' cancres began to disappear. He stopped moaning in the middle of lovemaking and began to say: "How about that, young man?" or sometimes, boasting, "Tell me you didn't like that." Well, everyone was glad to see Columbus becoming his old self again, but everyone was saying what a prick Columbus was. In his diary he wrote: "Whatever it is I discover, it better not give me any lip."

MUSIC

Fifty miles off Martha's Vineyard, it became clear that everyone's cancres had disappeared, their brains restored, bodies once again sound; and everyone had a good laugh about it, maybe whistled with relief, maybe gave a few pecks on the cheek here and there, but there was no heavy petting, you can be sure of that. "Hey, keep your hands off me fella"--you heard that pretty often on deck. And then later, "I said keep your hands off me!" Well, Lord knows, many lonely evenings, clippings extant say, because each man feared acquiring the dread disease which had brought him there in the first place. In his diary Columbus posed the question: "How many passionate persons can fit comfortably on the head of a pin?" He pondered the question, he sat with his chin resting neatly in the palm of his hand, and he replied. Question: "How many passionate persons can fit comfortably on the head of a pin?" Answer: "Merely one. Or... I don't know." (MUSIC BEGINS) I don't know.

MUSIC

So there they were on board looking out to see this new land Columbus was going to discover. And soon the blue horizon disappeared to be replaced by a magnificent array of greens. Fir green, evergreen, lime green, dark green, light green. The entire palette of greens stood maybe only a day's float ahead of them. No one moved. No one was allowed to move. When they were maybe fifty or seventy-five yards away, Columbus could not withstand his enthusiasm any longer. "My land is so beautiful," Columbus cried. "So beautiful," they agreed in unison, like a chorus, like a barbershop quartet multiplied by fifteen. 'So very beautiful." There were tears in Columbus' eyes. "Men," he turned to them, he looked at every one straight in the face, he was very moved by this discovery, "Men, no longer do I call this land Cincinnati; rather, this fine, green, beautiful land which I discovered today, I name AMERICA! After Amerigo Vespucci. A young man I met in Poma del Fuego with red hair and broad shoulders like his mother.

MUSIC

The thing about explorers is: they discover things that are already there. Columbus closed his diary and went ashore.

[swordsmans]

do you have any zolu fic recs? 🤔

oh boy do i.

my deepest apologies to others who have asked and only gotten "i promise i'll make a post!!" in response. now... here is my list! 36+ fics, including a few series i'm counting as "single" recs, (+3 not counted).

Spin a Yarn by SrirachaBunny

technically a series, this is a time travel fix-it that has expanded outward from its original premise over the years but is still very much THE zolu fix-it of all time.

Of First Mates and Duty by Whatev3rs

“First mates… we devote our lives to our captains. Our entire beings. We live for them, breathe for them. And they expect us not to fall in love?”

Devotion by BasicallyACat

two part canon compliant series that lives rent-free in my mind. this is my go-to "must read for new zolu fans" fic

without guilt by Augment

Luffy hungers, Zoro thirsts. (+ bonus honorable mention to "But Patience Boasts", which is the sanji-pov portion of this fic and is one of my faves of all time)

got all my attention fixed on you (and you're just where you said you'd be) by nevermordor

Luffy looks again at the bitemarks that he left on Zoro’s wrist. Zoro’s usually hurt, one way or another. Sometimes it’s definitely been Luffy’s fault too, but the bitemarks feel different. (honestly, just read all of nevermordor's fics; they are a fave of all time)

to cut your teeth on love by freckledshoulderblades

Zoro meets Luffy and gives himself over wholeheartedly the instant Wadō is placed between his teeth again. Luffy meets Zoro and decides in a heartbeat that Zoro is his.

tidings of war, tidings of joy by queerweather

Zoro is drenched in sweat already, but at least with his haki holding Luffy’s at bay he isn’t suffocating. And Luffy, damn him, looks completely unruffled.

Don't Go Where I Can't Follow by Leoporidae_Lagomorpha

Because before the Pirate King and the World's Greatest Swordsman there were two lost boys in East Blue. How people grow and promises change. (Zoro finds the color of his devotion.)

Fate and death are made in pairs by demonsLOver

"It's not because of his power or skill. He makes enemies and allies fight for his side. Among all the men of the sea, he has the most frightening ability." Mihawk stated to his pupil. (+ honorable mention to "Forged By Fire" as well)

our shores of starlight (come sailing in) by kurgaya

At Shells Town, Luffy does not meet Roronoa Zoro. Instead, he acquires a sword.

let me carry your scars by arkhamsjason

What Zoro didn't expect, as he made himself comfortable, as so many night before, to keep watch along with Luffy, was that he'd finally have the chance to know what his captain's ruined chest would feel like beneath his calloused hand and guilt filled heart.

and i will learn for you by blueacorn

Zoro will begin to realise that there are other ways to protect.

ship to wreck. by thychesters

Nami is the first one to notice something is amiss, but then given her current competition is Luffy and Zoro, it isn’t surprising. (+ honorable mention to "the salt & the sea.", a reincarnation AU!)

unspeakable love by gadgetronic

A character study with a focus on Zoro that explores promises, sacrifices, beginnings, and devotion.

Precipice of a Change by xpiester333x

Zoro stood there. He was on the precipice of something. One wrong move would send him over the edge into an unknown. He needed to step back, but his feet were locked and frozen on spot. (one of the few AUs to make this list! the characterization here is SPOT ON!)

First Mate, Soulmate by kkuroshii

Fighting with Luffy comes as easy as breathing to Zoro, and he can’t help but wonder what accomplishing his dream with this boy would be like

Robin Knows by leopardgeckoz

In which Nico Robin has always known how her captain and first mate feel for one another, and the scenario's in which the rest of the crew discover it.

with this heart of mine that's guilty; (not remorseful) by phosphenical

It had been two weeks, four days, and twenty-something odd hours since Zoro died. (WARNING FOR PERMA-MCD/HEAVY ANGST)

thank you. / goodbye. by Kenshi

WARNING FOR PERMA-MCD; short and... not "sweet", exactly; the style of this one does nice things to my brain

Blood Song by blue_wonderer

There's nothing to scream about because nothing happened.

blood-spitting loyalty by guiltylights

One day, you’re going to find something worth more to you than your own pride.

axiomatic by grainjew

Reflections on Zoro's devotion.

Providence by taizi

"You know, Zoro," he says, "I broke my end of that deal." 'If you ever come between me and my dream—' Ah, but then, "So did I."

Mutiny by VIKAN

Zoro disobeys a Captain's Order and it's all Sanji's fault. (not strictly ZoLu in the romantic sense, but this fic is a masterclass in both tension-building and how to write an in-character ZoLu argument)

something happened by torkz

Things are changing fast, and Zoro doesn't want to walk into the future with any secrets from his Captain.

Recognition by VickyVicarious

Zoro on titles, dreams, and Luffy. (old-school)

In the Blink of an Eye by InsaneMelon/Acewithapaintbrush

honorable mention to another old-school oneshot from FFnet UPDATE!! this has been re-written and the link has been updated.

Coming Home by thricepiercedpirate

What begins as a happy reunion, because everyone is accounted for and more-or-less in one piece, unexpectedly turns awkward as hell… (the only explicit entry on this list, but i'd be remiss if i did not include the fic that introduced/converted me to ZoLu for life back at the dawn of time... thanks from past-gyro, we wouldn't be here without you, dude.)

Stakes by CaptainJojo

Zoro has a good grasp of what fights are- and are not- worth his time. Or: Zoro gets lost and gets in one (1) fight about it.

Like a Dawning by WhirlyBird70

I am the man who will be King of the Pirates, Luffy said, says, and it’s not a promise but a will, and Zoro knows – knows that of anyone Zoro has ever seen, Luffy is the one to have the Haki of the Conquering King.

invisible threads that bind us by Pure_Night_Fury

Yin and Yang some people would say. Soulmates, others would mention. Or: Nami meets two idiots.

greed by species_baby

Something about his self-assuredness, his conviction makes Zoro dizzy. Although, that could also be the starvation.

Smile, Darn Ya, Smile by sciencemyfiction

Wouldn’t it be fucked up if Zoro was made to eat a smile fruit? And what would Luffy and the other Straw Hats do to help him?

Also, I'm including a shameless and horribly self-indulgent plug for my own stuff, because this is a ZoLu rec list and hey! I write that! lol

poly philtatos (the most loved by far) by swordsmans

25k; Zoro protects the crew and his Captain, and does not realize they will go to the ends of the earth to protect him, too.

ocean theology by swordsmans

40k; canon-compliant enma-asura/nika reincarnation. kinda.

the sea makes bones of bodies by swordsmans

88k; Only one is a monster, but both are a little monstrous. mafia hitman/underground fight club champion/reincarnated moon god x merman/legendary sea monster/reincarnated sun god AU. my magnum opus, probably.

[stiffyck]

au in which scar is an alien (vex-based maybe). The catch is that every member of his species has healing abilities, but those abilities only work on people they love. Almost no one on Scar's planet has scars, because most of them have friends or family members who heal them. Scar though is covered in old and new scars, given his name by strangers who call him Scarred, because it's impossible to hide that he's never been loved enough to be healed.

(For fluff and comfort, enter Cub. Scar meets hims when he finally acquires his own ship and starts exploring the universe. Cub is the same species, but he'd left the planet a long time ago. They meet at some far corner of the universe and hit it off immediately. Scar cries when Cub is able to heal him for the first time.)

i should be legally allowed to kill my mutuals what the fuck is this i spent my evening getting my ass handed to me in gw2 with my guild to open my inbox right after and get kicked in the stomach by a beloved mutual oh my god. /pos

I LOVE THIS. OBSESSED. MAN. WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS TO ME. AGH. NOW IM GONNA BE THINKING ABOUT SCAR GETTING HEALED BY CUB FOR LIKE THE FIRST TIME EVER-

like can you imagine the disbelief. like. cub actually loves him??? he has someone who cares about him???? someone is healing him????? he'd most definitely cry i know it

[meadowziplines]

Hiii 💕

Can I ask for “You’re two rooms over. Why are you calling?” and/or “Ugh. I knew it was a mistake to give you my number" for the Late Night Call Prompts?

Dreamling or whatever ship inspires you. Thank youuuu 💖

"You’re two rooms over. Why are you calling?"

(Dreamling, chronically ill dream wingfic 'verse)

it's hurt/comfort, though some of the comfort isn't in there yet. read more for length~

Dream and Hob are attending an academic conference in Birmingham, in the same hotel, but separate rooms. At the time, Dream had liked the idea, citing privacy and the fact that he would undoubtedly need the space to decompress. Now, he regrets it, because he can't get off the thinly carpeted floor. His wings burn with pain, but that's not the worst of it. His body and muscles are fatigued, locking up at the joints. He's dizzy. Maybe if he hadn't been unbalanced by letting his wings out, he wouldn't have fallen, but he has. He's tried to get up. He doesn't have the balance or mobility for it. After the third attempt, Dream realised he would wind up more hurt if he kept trying.  He wants Hob. Even more than he wants to be off the floor. Not even because Hob would gladly help him off the floor, but because he's miserable and it hurts and his head is foggy and he hates everything and Hob, by now, knows enough of Dream's chronic health issues that he wouldn't overly insult Dream's dignity about it. There's not going to be a way Dream feels good about having fallen on the floor and in this much pain, but Hob's seen… worse. And Hob is his friend. Maybe more than? It's hard to tell. His thoughts are spinning as badly as his head. Something wet is on his face and he realises he's crying frustrated and pained tears.  To get Hob in, he has to obtain his mobile. He can't remember where he left it. The end table? His bag? His coat?  His coat is half on, half off the bed a few feet away. His bag is across the room on the desk. He grits his teeth. He moves from a sitting position to his hands and knees best he can, and promptly falls face-first on the carpet before he can regain any equlibrium.  Painstakingly, he drags himself to the coat, hands stinging where he's acquiring carpet burn, and yanks it off the bed. Then he fumbles through the pockets of his coat. Mercifully, his phone is in the coat. He hits the speed dial and then has a swooping, fearful sensation in his stomach: What if Hob doesn't answer his phone? Or what if he's out doing something and it's too much trouble?  "Hey, Dream, what's up? You're two rooms down, why are you calling? You're welcome anytime, nothing needed in advance."  "I – I…" Dream exhales. "I need – you to come to mine."  Hob must pick up on the strain in his voice, because he says, "Okay. I'll be right there. What else do you need from me?" Hob doesn't have a key to Dream's room. Hob can't get in. The thought hits Dream like ice water, and his next inhale is damp.  "I can't answer the door," he says, pain and fatigue and distress clouding his thoughts.  "Should I be calling 999, dove?" Dove. Dream's stomach, somehow, swoops even through every other sensation. "N-No. But I can't… I can't get to the door. But I don't need… I need you." "Good thing I have lockpicks," Hob mutters. "Don't hang up, all right?"  _ _ _ _ _ Hob's picks scrape in the lock, and he forces himself to remain steady-handed as he makes his way to Dream. "Almost there…"  When the lock disengages and he opens the door, what he finds is Dream sprawled on the floor, clinging to his phone like a lifeline. His wings are out, tucked in over the specially-cut in the back shirt. "Hob," he says miserably. He's been crying.  "Hey. What's wrong?"  "Dizzy, wings hurt, nothing new," Dream said, exhaustedly. "Except the stress of travel has. Made. Everything. Bad. My muscles and joints are… being hard to unlock. I can't… get up?"  "Should I help you onto the bed?"  "Would you?"  "Always."

[naushtheaspiringauthor]

You know how there are those fics where a runaway noble reader ends up on Sturmhonds ship and she doesn't know who he is but he knows who she is and shenanigans ensue

Picture this: both Nikolai and Reader ended up doing the whole "tailor myself and sailing the seas" thing but Reader figured out who Sturmhond is while Nikolai has no clue. Because there's no way two people had the exact same idea. Basically a reversal of the trope. Now let the shenanigans ensue

The one left behind - Nikolai Lantsov x reader

A/N- I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it😽😽 Tysm for sending this request!!

Summary- When a rather intriguing girl joins Sturmhond's crew, he finds himself quite drawn to her. However, he still reminisces about the one he'd left behind.

You closed your eyes for a brief moment, allowing the cool breeze to wash over your skin. It was comfort, a sense of hope and most importantly, your freedom. 

You'd finally gotten out of your wrecked household that withheld a father who wished for you to be dead only because you'd refused to abide by his terms. 

You were the daughter of a noble, one who had esteemed relations with the royal family, with you having become friends with the youngest prince. Who was however long since left the country and even though you missed him with all your heart, had no way of reaching him. 

From education to numerous life skills, your parents had provided you with all. However they both had different paths chosen for you to tread upon. 

Your mother had wished for you to acquire a position in Ravka's council. 

Your father however, had wished for you to go to Fjerda and work as a spy for your country. 

 Though no one had ever bothered to ask you what you wished for. 

When your mother had passed, your father had been forcing you to leave for Fjerda.

When you'd opposed, he'd only wished to get rid of you in whatever way possible. 

So you had ran, from a life that was none less than a prison, from a father who no longer wanted you because you opposed to living your life his way. 

….......................................

You took in your new features in the scroungy mirror at the small boarding house you'd been living in. 

You'd gotten a tailor to alter your face so that you wouldn't be recognized as your father had organized a search party for you. 

Your hair was still the long black locks, but your nose was now far sharper than it'd been, and y/e/c eyes were now a light blue, rather tacky for your taste but it was necessary.

The tailor had told you that she'd put in her best efforts to make it last as long as possible, but you'd still need to get it fixed up occasionally. 

 ……............................... 

The next morning, you set out to meet with some crew member of the infamous Volkvolny, a ship commanded by some young pirate as you'd heard. 

You sat at one of the tables of the inn you were supposed to meet at. However, the girl hadn't even shown up yet. 

Just when you were about to leave, you noticed a girl with close cropped hair entering. She had two axes slung around her back and her features stated that she was Shu. 

However, you observed that she hadn’t come alone. She had some red-haired boy wearing a teal coat by her side.

“You’re the Tamar I was to talk to?” You asked, raising an eyebrow as she and the boy sat across you.

“Yes. Sorry for the delay. The captain wished to talk to you himself” She responded, glancing at the boy

You eyed him with your eyebrow still raised. Few strands of his red hair fell near his eyes. His hazel eyes gleamed in the light, and his nose was slightly crooked. He appeared no older than twenty, too young to be a captain.

“You’re the captain?” you asked, giving him a rather judging look.

“I believe I am,” he spoke with a proud grin. His voice sounding familiar to you for some reason. “I happen to be the infamous Sturmhond” he continued to grin

You glanced at him for a moment. There was something familiar about his eyes, but you just couldn’t place it. Perhaps you’d just started feeling so homesick that you’d begun to imagine things now.

“Novak, Evanna Novak” you finally respond, clearly not returning his expression

“Well’ he cleared his throat. “Miss Novak, to have you as a member of my crew, I must ask you what skills do you happen to possess?” he asked

“I’m an engineer, can help in fixing up your ship but I’ve also got training in combat” you spoke

The boy leaned back and finally spoke after a short moment, “Well, I believe we do happen to need an engineer aboard the Volkvolny. Name your price”

“I just need enough to fulfill all my requirements, no more no less. But there's another” you responded

“What's that?”

“I get to keep my freedom” you lifted up your chin, you'd come all this way for one thing only and you weren't going to let it slip away again. 

“Well, I believe we have a deal then” the boy responded. He clasped his hands in front of him as he stood up, “We leave at sunrise, meet us at the docks”.

He walked out of the inn with Tamar by his side. Though there was something strange about him that you couldn't quite place. 

.......…............................ 

“I have an idea” Nikolai sprang up from his chair

“What's that?” you asked, not even bothering to look up from your book. 

“Someday, I can get a ship that I'll be captain of and then we can sail the seas together” he spoke with great zeal. 

You set down your book and met his gaze. “Do you really think my parents would let me?” 

“We'll be adults by then, you could make your own decisions” 

You chuckled slightly, “No one cares about what I want, Nikolai. They'd still take all the decisions of my life”

“I do, I care about what you want” he responded, giving you his innocent look that would make you agree to whatever he'd say. 

..........................…..................... 

You reached the docks at the exact time you'd been given. You hadn't exactly slept the whole night. Whether it was thrill, fear or something entirely different, you didn't know, you no longer cared. You only wished to be free. 

You stepped on the sleek schooner that was the Volkvolny. The ship was quite a marvel and you were intrigued by the fact that the young captain had somehow managed to acquire it. 

You were introduced to the crew by Tamar and her twin brother Tolya who perfectly resembled the structure of a massive tree and had the habit of reciting random verses of poetry mid conversation. 

Sturmhond too, had greeted you as you'd come. And seeing him shouting orders to his crew and grinning along with them made you wonder how he'd managed to do it all. 

......…...............................… 

“I don't like these parties in the slightest” you grumbled, leaning against the railing of the balcony. 

The queen had thrown yet another ball for some reason and the only reason you'd come was because you'd get to see Nikolai. Though your immense hatred for the event hadn't deteriorated in the slightest. 

And what made you even furious was how perfectly Nikolai managed to do it all. Making small talk with the guests, occasionally annoying his brother Vasily and being the center of attention. 

He was far cheery and great at conversing for a sixteen year old boy. 

“Me neither, these people are so fake it's maddening. Nothing coming out of their mouths might be true” Nikolai agreed with you

“But you do it all so perfectly, it's very annoying” you rolled your eyes

“Well, for being a royal, learning to charm people with words is a necessity. Even if it's not true in the slightest” He shrugged. 

You grimaced at his words and turned to look at the starry sky, without the slightest hint of his gaze on you. 

He was mesmerized by how beautiful you looked. You were majestic to him at all times, but there was something entirely different about you tonight. 

Your long flaunty dress that you'd been forced to wear, hung perfectly at your shoulders. A few loose strands of your hair fell near your eyes and he had to fight the urge to tuck them behind your ear. 

Your eyes gleamed in the moonlight. 

You were majestic. 

He slowly slid his hand near yours on the railing and gently placed it on top of yours, making your gaze turn to him. 

You gazed in his perfect hazel eyes, fully unaware of how red your cheeks had become. 

“You look marvelous” he spoke, his voice a mere whisper. “And I'm not only making it up to charm you” he added with a grin. 

“Like you ever could “ you rolled your eyes, a smirk playing over your lips

…..........................................… 

You'd been aboard the Volkvolny for about a week now. And you'd already become quite popular amongst the crew for not only your work but your quick wits and splendid sparring skills. 

Sturmhond would always attempt to make small talk with you and charm you with his idiotic grin. 

You helped him with his designs of a flying ship he was attempting to make along with his other erratic inventions, whilst he tried his best to learn more about you. 

“So, why did you really choose to have this life?” he asked, abandoning his work as he turned towards you

“Well, I simply wished to live a life free from all kinds of burdens” you responded, not willing to share your entire life history. “I believed I could live my life by my own rules here, at the sea”

“I have to admit I agree. It's one of the reasons I'm here as well. Though I do think of all I've left behind” he glanced at a far corner of his desk. 

For a moment, he appeared as a lost prince stuck in another fantasy. 

That was when you noticed the massive deep green gem fixed on his ring. 

You'd seen the ring before, but you hadn't really looked at it. 

The Lantsov Emerald

Very similar to the one Nikolai had on him. 

How had he gotten it? Perhaps he had stolen it from him? What had happened to Nikolai? Was he even alive? A thousand questions filled your head. 

But you brushed them off, quickly regaining your composure. 

Nikolai had stopped writing to you a long while ago, there was no point in thinking of him anymore. 

He no longer cared for you.

…....................................… 

You'd tried your best to keep your composure intact when he'd told you. 

When you'd found out that he was leaving to attend the university at Ketterdam. 

It was best for him of course, you'd known. But it still hurt you to part from him. The boy you'd been with since you were children. 

The boy you'd known as every line from your favorite book. 

You sat alone in the garden, the moon gleaming above you. Nikolai was to leave the following day, but you needed to be strong for him. 

You couldn't make a fool of yourself in front of him. 

You suddenly heard the shuffling of footsteps behind you. “You know you aren't as stern as you show yourself to be. You can be quite emotional” you turned around to see Nikolai. 

He was dressed in a white shirt with the sleeves folded up. 

He looked marvelous. 

“I am not” you rolled your eyes. 

“Come on, you've got to admit that you'll miss me” he grinned as he sat beside you. 

“Well, I guess I might miss hearing your annoying chatter all the time” you shrugged

“See? Acceptance isn’t so bad” he grinned 

You rolled your eyes, “Whatever”

You looked down at your feet. You were going to miss him, you knew it. And you had no idea when you might see him again.

You wished to speak up, to tell him how much he meant to you, how much you cared for him. 

You wished to let him know how much you’d come to like him, even though you never showed it.

You wished to let him know how much you loved him.

But you couldn’t, you couldn’t muster up the courage to do it. And you believed it was for the better. Perhaps he wouldn’t even care once he’s gone. You hated the thought of it.

You reached your hands over to your neck and took off your pendant. You held it out in your palm, “Keep it with you, it’ll remind of you of someone waiting for you to come back”

He glanced at you before nodding. “I wouldn’t even dream of forgetting you” he smiled, taking it from your palm

You smiled, a slight tilt of your lips, perfectly displaying your melancholic feelings. 

He brought his palm forward, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. He then held your hand in his as he gazed deep in your y/e/c eyes. 

“Promise me that you’ll write to me. That you won’t slip away” you spoke, your voice a mere whisper

“I promise. No matter where I am, I’ll never stop thinking of you”.

You gazed at him, your eyes speaking the words your mouth never could.

...………………………………..

After several weeks on board, you woke up one morning and noticed the change in your features in the mirror. 

The effects of the tailoring were wearing off.

You’d gone to Tolya and had him tailor it back. You’d explained to him and Tamar about your need for it and they’d promised to keep your secret safe.

Later during the afternoon, you’d went to Sturmhond’s cabin to retrieve the designs of your latest project from him, only to find that he hadn't been there.

As you thought to leave, you noticed the very document you’d come for was on his desk. However, as you picked it up, you heard a sharp clatter.

As you bent down to pick up whatever had fallen down, you truly realized what it’d been

You felt as if your heart had stopped beating. You couldn't fathom the sights in front of you. 

It was your pendant. 

The one you'd given to Nikolai as a parting gift. 

The Lantsov Emerald and now, your pendant? You couldn't formulate a plausible explanation for all of it. 

Sturmhond, the captain with a terribly made up name. The Captain who was too young to be one. The boy who had far too polite manners to be a Pirate- Privateer as he'd say. 

The boy with the too familiar eyes and voice.  

Was it truly him? 

Was it truly, Nikolai? 

..…....................................... 

Nikolai had never been this conflicted in his entire life. 

He couldn't stop himself from glancing at a certain new member of his crew whenever she'd be working. 

He couldn't stop himself from attempting to strike a conversation with her at any given opportunity. 

He couldn't stop himself from falling in love with her. 

But he still thought of her, the one he'd left back home. He still yearned for the sight of her, the gleam of her eyes in the moonlight, her rare but marvelous smile, he still yearned for her. 

Though he knew he'd abandoned her. He had stopped sending her letters when he'd left the university and had decided to be at the sea. 

Part of him believed that she'd forgotten him, that she'd have moved on, no matter how much he despised the thought. 

He wished he would have spoken when he had the chance. He wished he'd told her how much he loved her, how much it broke his heart to leave her, how much she meant to him. 

But he hadn't, and he despised himself for it. 

...........................................… 

You noticed the effects of Tolya's tailoring were wearing off. However, you chose to leave them be for a while. 

You needed the real you for the moment. 

You saw Sturmhond standing by himself near the railing.

You noticed the moonlight making something in his palm gleam. 

The pendant, you realized. 

He had it in his hand. 

You stepped closer to him as you spoke, “Captain's having trouble sleeping?” you asked. 

He hastily put the pendant away in the pocket of his overcoat. He regained his composure before speaking, “Yeah. Could ask you the same though” he shifted his gaze towards the sea again

“Well, I was going to, but then I happened to see a certain melancholic boy. Something on your mind?” you asked, furrowing your brows. 

“No, not really” he shrugged as he looked down

You raised an eyebrow, clearly not fooled by his lie. 

He wasn't okay, you knew it. 

You'd seen it. 

And perhaps, it was time you'd told him the truth. But you first needed to know what was on his mind. 

“You can talk to me, you know? Something's off with you, and you aren't very good at hiding it” you rested your hands on the railing

He sighed, as he lifted his head up. 

“I- When I decided to leave home, I left a lot behind. There's a lot I don't really miss, but one” He took out the pendant from his pocket. “I yearn for her. And- and I don't even know if she even thinks of me anymore” his voice trembled as he continued

Your heart stopped. 

He believed you'd forgotten him. He thought you no longer cared. If only he knew how much you'd missed him, how he'd never left your mind. How you'd always thought of him during the sleepless nights. 

“I, I don't think she would've forgotten that easy” you attempted to keep your voice steady

“I abandoned her” his voice trembled, he sounded immensely hurt. “I stopped writing to her, I- I never saw her once. Maybe it's for the best. Maybe, she's moved on, she has a better life, she is happy. That's all that matters to me” tears began to well up in his eyes. 

His state, his words, shattered your heart. You weren't happy, you didn't have a better life until you'd come here, you couldn't be happy without him.

You couldn't take it any longer. 

You took a deep breath before speaking, “She isn't happy, not without you, Nikolai” 

He stilled. 

He turned his head towards you in a haste. “Wha-” he looked utterly perplexed

“I know it's you” your gaze softened

“Wait,” His eyes widened as he finally realized. “It's not you, it cannot be” he turned away his gaze. 

You gently held your hand in his, “Nikolai, look at me” you said. 

He slowly shifted his gaze to you and looked, really looked at you. 

The effects of Tolya's tailoring were now fully gone. Your true features had returned.

He let out a breath as he took your name. “Is it truly you?” he asked, his voice a mere whisper

You nodded, gently smiling. 

“How? What are you doing here?” he asked

“It's a long story. It was either I went off to Fjerda or die. So I chose none of those” you shrugged

“What!?” he asked in pure shock

You sighed, “My mother passed away, Nik. I- my father, he wished for me to become a spy, go to Fjerda. I refused, so he wanted nothing more than for me to die. So I ran. That's why I needed the tailoring” you explained.

 “I had my doubts but I wasn't sure if it was really you, not until I saw that” you glanced at the pendant. 

His gaze softened as he realized the whole thing. 

“You still have it” you grinned slightly

“Of course I do, it's the only thing I have that reminds me of you” He smiled with teary eyes. 

“I, I'm sorry, for not writing to you. But you never left my mind, I never stopped thinking of you” he spoke after a short moment. 

“I believed you no longer cared” your voice shook as you glanced down. 

“I would never stop caring for you, love” he said. 

He gently cupped your face in his hands, making your gaze turn to his. “I would never stop loving you” his voice grew lower.

Your eyes widened at his words. 

You'd loved him. You had loved him all your life, more than one could ever think of. But you'd never anticipated him to ever feel the same. 

You felt as if time had stopped at that very moment. There was none other but you and him, two hearts beating as one. 

“I love you, I always have” he said, his teary eyes gleaming

Your gaze softened. 

Your face broke into a soft, relieved grin as you spoke, “I love you too Nik, I always will”.

You gazed deep in his bright hazel eyes before pulling closer to him. 

You gently pressed your lips to his, the action making a part of you heal that'd been broken too long. 

You pulled away from him in a short moment. You met his gaze before he pulled you in, kissing you in the way he'd always longed for. 

You smiled as you pulled away from him. 

“I have to admit I had no idea it was you” he spoke with a beatific grin

His expression grew somber. “You've changed,” he said.

“Time and experiences change all of us” you responded, glancing down. 

“Not you though, you're still the same annoying blabbermouth you were” you joked, regaining your composure in a haste. 

“Oh admit it, you love it” he grinned, teasing you. 

“I believe I do,” you smiled.

“Promise you'll remain by my side from now?” he asked after a short moment

“Only if I get a promotion” you shrugged, grinning. 

“Alright then” he chuckled, and took your hand in his. 

Your fate had brought you back to the life you'd once been stripped of. It had brought you back to him, and you were entirely grateful for it. 

please lets just pretend he had the lantsov emerald before when his mother gave it to him in ruin and rising it was necessary for the plot okayy

anyways i hope i wasnt the only one giggling by the end

[rooksunday]

To: Corrie Natborn Corner

Dear vod,

we need you help. Our commander has taken to hiding in the vents of our venator. They are like super perceptive, sometimes they even pick up on things the General doesn't notice! We thought they might be scared of something and discreetly started sweeping the ship for any unknown dangers but didn't find anything. The commander rarely speaks up so we worry they won't outright tell us if something is wrong.

Do you know how we can make them feel safe? They're kriffing tiny, even for a near-human/human of 10 standard (at least that's our estimate), do you think they need some reassurance? They don't like to touch people so we're not sure how to offer comfort. Our CMO gave them a shiny new extra blanket last time they had to get a hypo and it's displaying our colors. They were visibly happy so we're sure it's not an issue of them not liking us.. Any advice?

We're grateful for any tips!

[End of transmission]

dear confused (oh vod, aren't we all),

congratulations on your commander! the guard haven’t been assigned one and efforts to steal acquire any have so far been unsuccessful. the stray tookas in hq, while adorable, just aren't the same.

you've done well in creating a safe space for your stray – checking for dangers, providing comfort, and respecting their boundaries. mission accomplished, vode! (and a new blanket in your colours? are you looking to adopt a slightly box-damaged corrie or two by any chance?)

this was a tough one, because usual bonding tactics - moonshine and crying time; suplexing your target into a vodpile; careful detonations - aren't natborn age-appropriate. then we remembered skiratooka, our three-legged antisocial stray, who would eat all the snacks and accept no pets.

like with your commander, we respected skiratooka's boundaries (after the flea hypo), made sure it was fed and warm, and left it alone otherwise. but then, after a little while, it started following us on patrol. napping in shinies' helmets. appearing in vodpiles.

by creating a safe space, and not pressuring it, skiratooka told us what it wanted. your commander is the same! keep doing what you're doing, vod. maybe invite your little commander to some armour painting and see how they react? just keep being safe. you've got time.

(though do think about that detonation session. cadets love fireworks.)

as ever

your corries

[ambassadorarlert]

warnings: self ship coded (kelsmin canon), hurt/comfort, mentions of children + their given names, post-rumbling setting, implied ptsd/survivors guilt

a/n: this is our beach episode 🤙🏻🐚 enjoy!

word count: 855

minors + imbeciles dni

“Do I deserve any of this?” — Armin asked quietly.

He kept his gaze straight outward to the sea. Way back when it mattered, the idea of seeing the ocean was just a distant dream, and so was life in between everything else up until this moment.

The Rumbling had ended a little over a decade ago. The dust from that period of everyone’s lives had settled. The world was wider now, which left an infinite amount of room for change and growth and opportunity. Even though, Armin’s life was accustomed to tragedy, he had a fair share of important milestones since then.

His greatest accomplishment wasn’t stopping the Rumbling, or becoming an ambassador of his home country. The crown jewels of his life were his four children. They were all close in age and similar in appearance, each of them taking a couple of slices from their father and mother respectively.

Armin had accepted that he had done about a million and one things wrong in his life, and he accepted that he’d pay the price for it once he was dead and gone. He couldn’t get rid of the underlying feeling that he did not deserve the slightest thing he had acquired in his present life. How could he possibly be able to heal, when his actions are the reason why some never got closure? In what way did he have any right to go on and create lives when he had taken so many away? How was someone like him worthy of being a father and a husband?

“Armin,” A touch of his hand brought him out of his thoughts. He looked down at the beautifully manicured hand that sent sparks to his skin. The kindest woman in the world had the misfortune of being Armin’s wife.

There was a long pause, silence falling all across the beach apart from the sound of sloshing waves and kids laughing. Armin noticed she had worn her wedding ring to the beach. The oval Amethyst center and silver band suited her, just like Armin thought it would.

“Look at your children” She said, darting her eyes in their direction.

Together they made three girls and only one boy between the ages of five and eleven. Armin could remember where and what he was doing at their ages. When he was five, Armin remembered spending quality time with his grandfather and listening to his stories. A cycle he repeated with all of his children, but Clementine enjoyed his stories the most as she was still quite little.

When Armin was seven, like Thea, he could remember laying in the grass and rolling downhill with Eren to see who could roll the fastest. Owen was nine, the same age Armin was when Bertholdt and Reiner compromised the walls of Shiganshina. Dahlia was 11, only a year younger than Armin was when he joined the cadet corp.

“What do you see?” She tested him.

Armin blinked. They both sat back and watched them play without conflict or tears. The day was perfect. The sun provided the perfect amount of warmth and light, while the shade from the umbrella gave comforting and cool relief. The misty beach breeze salted Armin’s hair.

Armin sharpened his eyes on his children as they went about their fun, playing near the water. They were old enough to know better than to go too far, but still young enough to be kept under their parents protection. Dahlia, Thea, and Clementine gathered around Owen as he lay in the sand. They took turns filling their individual pales with sand and dumping it on top of him. Only Owen’s blonde head, that matched his father and sister, was all that showed from the mountain he was under.

“They are free!” She hushed.

The realization always had an impact on his spirit. Armin’s children never had to worry about if this day would be their last or where their next meal would come from and how they could make it last for the rest of the week. They had new clothes and shoes whenever their old ones became too small, toys and books. Above everything else, they never had to live in a world where titans where a threat.

Armin’s throat was tight with emotion, if he said anything at all then he might just crack. All he could manage was a flustered nod of his head. His heart swelled. It almost couldn’t take how despite everything he had done and the immeasurable amount of guilt he felt every day, nothing could wash away his pride for his family. He inhaled a deep breath of salty sea air to settle his nerves, and gently interlocked his fingers in with hers.

Her smile that stretched across her lips, that brought her cheeks high, never wavered at the sight of him. It put the sun and all the stars to shame. They smiled at each other, the atmosphere between them thick with unconditional love and the mutual fulfillment of breaking cycles and having their children be part of the first generation where titans were just a horrible memory to humanity.

happy father’s day, armin <3

( @ambassadorarlert 2024 )

[shewhoworshipscarlin]

Augustus Jackson

Ice cream innovator Augustus Jackson was born on April 16, 1808, in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. He began working at the White House in Washington D.C. when he was just nine years old and worked as a chef there for twenty years, from 1817 until 1837. Jackson cooked for Presidents James Monroe, John Quincy Adams, and Andrew Jackson. His presidential food preparation extended from cooking comfort food for the presidents’ families to preparing formal meals at state dinners for visiting dignitaries.

In 1837, Augustus Jackson left Washington D.C. and returned to his hometown of Philadelphia, Pennsylvania where he opened his own catering and confectioner business. A savvy businessman, over time Jackson became one of the most successful entrepreneurs in Philadelphia, acquiring his fortune making ice cream. Although ice cream has been around since the 4th century B.C.E. originating from Persia (Iran), Jackson is known for his ice cream making technique and his inventive ice cream recipes.

That innovative ice cream manufacturing technique led to his unprecedented success. Most early ice cream recipes used eggs, but Jackson devised an eggless recipe. He also added salt to the ice, mixing it with his new flavors and cream. The salt made his delicious flavors taste better and lowered the temperature of the ice cream allowing it to be kept colder for a longer time. This helped with packaging and shipping. Jackson’s technique is still used today.

Jackson packaged his ice cream in metal tins and sold them to ice cream parlors owned by other Blacks in Philadelphia. His many flavored ice creams became popular and sold for up to $1 a quart. Up to this point ice cream was affordable only to the rich. Jackson’s new technique reduced the cost of production and made his “Philadelphia style” ice cream affordable to the masses. Eventually Jackson sold his ice cream to individual customers, vendors, and ice cream parlors.

There is no evidence that Jackson patented his ice cream making techniques nor of any of his recipes surviving until today. He shared his ideas with the five other Black ice cream parlor owners in Philadelphia, most of whom found similar success with ice cream making well into the 19th century until racial prejudice drove most of them out of business.

Augustus Jackson died on January 11, 1852, at the age of 43. After Jackson’s demise, his daughter took over the ice cream business. The family, however, had difficulty keeping up with the demand, which opened the door for other ice cream makers to take Jackson’s share of the Philadelphia market.

[techwrecker]

Something ANGSTY and FLUFFY with CROSSHAIR (if you’re any good at that, ik some writers struggle in some areas)

For Her

Summary: Crosshair struggles with his PTSD from Tantiss that manifests in his hands.

Genre: angst, hurt comfort, light fluff, SFW

TW: mention of death, mention of character canon death, ptsd symptoms (please let me know if I missed any)

Word Count: 2.6K

Warnings: Minor season 3 spoilers, no plot spoiling

A/N: this is probably more angst than fluff eheh... sorry ^^; I hope you enjoy anyways! If you see any grammatical mistakes, no you do not <3

AO3

Crosshair’s hands didn’t shake when his mind was preoccupied. And right now, he was preoccupied by combat with his brother Echo.

Crosshair sat folded in concentration, elbows resting on his knees, mulling over the next possible Dejarik moves. Echo was sitting across from him, just as engaged as the sniper, though Crosshair couldn’t tell if his yawns were genuine exhaustion or a mediocre attempt to rush his turn. Either way, Crosshair wasn’t going to pass up a chance to win because somebody was trying to end the game quickly.

“C’mon, Cross. If you could manage a move during this rotation, I’d appreciate it.” The former ARC trooper quipped.

“Relax. I’m thinking,” he said in mild annoyance. “Nothing wrong with being careful and taking one’s time.” Crosshair hit a button on the board, causing the holo to shift as his character sauntered over and slayed Echo’s main player, leaving the match at a checkmate. “See? Patience is a virtue.” He said, smug with victory.

“Yeah, one of your only ones, too,” Echo shot back with a smile, pressing the shut-off button on the entertainment table. Crosshair couldn’t help the small smirk that crept onto his face. Echo stood up and extended his good arm out across the dark table for a handshake. “Good game, as usual, Crosshair.”

Crosshair took his brother’s hand, and they shook. As Echo walked away to his bunk, Crosshair sat back down, massaging his hand at the palm. His hands didn’t shake when his mind was thinking about a task at hand, but once it was quiet, it was all he could do to keep them still. He held his hands out in front of him, watching them twitch. He squeezed them into fists in an attempt to calm the shot nerves and shut them out from his mind. Crosshair leaned back into his chair and shoved his still lightly trembling hands deep into his pockets. This was not an attempt to keep them steady but rather if they were out of sight, they were out of mind. And for the most part, it worked.

It was unusual for the ship to be as quiet as it was. Hunter and Wrecker took Omega out to the Pabu market before it shut down for the day so they could grab some dinner for the crew. Since being informally stationed on Pabu for the past month or so, Wrecker had acquired quite an affinity for cooking and Omega was more than eager to help him. Each night, they came home with a new recipe from a local vendor. And before Eriadu, anybody within a 20 foot radius of The Marauder could’ve heard Tech’s tinkering, but ever since…

No. He wouldn’t think about that. He couldn’t. Not without completely breaking down. Crosshair was still a soldier. Whether he was tied to the Republic, the Empire, or to his brothers, he had to be strong. But, ever since Omega saved him from Mount Tantiss, from Hemlock’s unending torture, Crosshair had trouble finding it in himself to return to the steadfast man he once was. Things weren’t as black and white as he had once believed them to be. His brief loyalty to the Empire was misplaced, he knew that now. Maybe had he stayed true to his brothers, Tech would still be alive. He didn’t deserve that fate– nobody did. Not when Crosshair could have prevented it. Had he not chosen to be a “good soldier” for the Empire’s evil. Crosshair couldn’t help but feel like it was all his fault. Omega’s capture. Tech’s death. And the worst part was that they all held him with kiddie gloves, like he was made of glass, destined to shatter at any moment.

Crosshair could feel the headache coming. He stood up and opened the hatch of their home. The wind rushed in, whipping the scent of the salty sea around him. It was humid, but not oppressive. He hoped the fresh air would clear his mind. Making his way down the loading ramp and onto the weathered cobblestone of the island’s square, he could hear the people of Pabu in the lower levels starting to call their children in for dinner. Thankfully, due to pleasant weather, the market was taking place on the beach, far below where the Marauder was parked atop the island. The pinnacle was mostly empty, so Crosshair didn’t have to be greeted by the well-meaning citizens. He kept walking until he reached the lookout point not far from the ship.

The sun had already begun dipping into the vast, dark sea as it painted the sky in all its deserving beauty. Scattered across the strip of beach, Crosshair could see vendors beginning to flip on their candleorbs.

He pulled his rifle from behind his back and placed it into position against his shoulder as he’d done a thousand times before. Making sure the safety was on before pointing it down towards the beach, he peered into the scope, looking for his family. It wasn’t hard to spot the crew, as they were a stark contrast from the linen-clothed locals. That paired with Wrecker’s resonant voice, which could probably carry across the planet, made them easy to find.

Through the viewfinder, he could see Omega reaching into a basket for a fruit he had never seen before, her mouth moving. She turned around to show Hunter the new food and he smiled at her, dropping a few coins of the Pabuian currency into her free hand.

Crosshair didn’t realize he was smiling at the scene. He was glad she was safe now. Maker knows she deserved to be. Especially after everything the child had to endure.

He continued to trail the scope along until he found Wrecker, not far ahead. He was practically towering over all the booths. Crosshair tried to use the scope’s zooming feature to see what he was holding, but at such a distance, it was hard to tell.

The rifle began to tremble slightly in the sniper’s hands. He furrowed his brows in concentration and tried to hold his position as rigid as he could, but it was no use. He ripped his face away from the scope and held the rifle out in front of him in frustration. All he saw in his hands was his mistakes. He unlatched the scope and tore it from the barrel before brashly throwing it off the ledge of the lookout. Crosshair wouldn’t dare to damage his precious weapon, but he couldn’t bear to look at the scope any longer. Once he heard the distant clink of metal against the climbing stairs of Pabu, he laid the weapon on the stone wall, his hand lingering with regret for a second longer.

He turned back toward the Marauder and began to walk away. He didn’t want it in his sight anymore but, as a formally trained sniper, it was hard not to be in his sight. The very thing that he had found security in as a cadet now made him shameful. The very purpose he was created for was stripped from his identity without remorse by the Empire. What’s the use in having a weapon if you can’t protect your family?

Thankfully, as Crosshair approached the loading ramp, he could tell by the light snoring coming from Echo’s bunk, that his brother was napping soundly. He pulled out a toothpick from his chest pocket as he made his way to the cockpit. He didn’t like being alone so much anymore, so he lifted his feet up onto the dash, careful to avoid any switches that might start the engine and tried to follow in Echo’s footsteps for a nap.

He had just about nodded off when Batcher’s quick footsteps disturbed the quiet evening. Crosshair lifted a single lid and squinted out of the viewport and saw Omega riding atop Batcher, the pair headed for The Marauder. Besides clutching Batcher’s fur, she had a cylindrical object in her right hand.

Crosshair took his feet down and sat up to open the loading bay door for Omega.

“Cross!” She called frantically. “Cross where are you?”

“I’m here, Omega.” He said, meeting her at the door. “What’s wrong?”

She wrapped her arms tightly around his waist, burying her face into his torso. He gingerly laid a hand on her shoulder and knelt down to meet her at eye-level as she pulled away. She looked deeply into his eyes, her own filled with concern.

“I thought something had happened to you!” Her eyes had begun to fill with tears and her face started to flush pink.

“No, I’m alright. Why would you think that?” He asked.

Omega swiped at her tears with the back of her hand before offering up the scope he had thrown away. She opened her hand flat. The black metal was scratched and the glass inside had shattered. “I thought maybe somebody had taken you.”

Crosshair placed his hand over hers, wrapping her fingers back around the scope and lowering it in rejection. “No. I don’t want that.”

“What do you mean?” Omega said with a sniff.

“I can’t do that. Not anymore.” He said shortly. He didn’t want to bring up Tech. He didn’t want to explain his feelings of inadequacy to her. Not when she was the one who had saved him in the first place. It should have been him. He should have been the one to save her. He was pathetic and he knew everybody around him thought that, too.

“I understand, Crosshair.” She started. “You feel like you don’t have a purpose anymore. I used to feel that way, back on Kamino.”

She took his hand and they sat, leaning against the navicomp on the floor together. “I always wondered why I was different from the other clones. I wasn’t trained like everybody else, but nobody would explain my purpose to me.”

“Omega, I-“ Crosshair tried to escape the conversation.

“No, let me finish.” She interrupted, and he shut his mouth.

“All of you had a clear purpose. The Kaminoans designed you that way. But me? There was nothing special about me. I’m not a sharpshooter and I don’t have heightened senses. I’m definitely not as big as Wrecker and nobody is as smart as Tech was.’ 

Crosshair winced at the sound of his fallen brother’s name.

“But then I finally met you all, my brothers! And I realized what my purpose was. It may not be what they created me for on Kamino, but I know it to be true in my heart. My purpose is to protect my brothers. To protect you,” she explained.

Crosshair could feel the sting of his tears as they started to fall down his slender face.

“Omega,” he began softly, “I’m so sorry. For everything."

The tears wouldn't stop. She pulled him in for a hug and he let her. The two sat together as Crosshair silently let the emotions wash over him. And Omega let him. She knew Crosshair had not come to terms with everything he went through on Tantiss or with the Empire. But, she was observant and saw how his hands would tremble if he didn’t keep himself busy. She knew he needed this and she also knew he wouldn’t confide in any of their brothers like this. Even Batcher sensed something was wrong and came over to lay her head in Crosshair’s lap.

After a couple of minutes, Crosshair pulled away and straightened against the ship. He cleared his throat and looked down at Omega. She was smiling sweetly at him. Not with pity, but with understanding. With her signature kindness. Batcher hopped up and tried to lick his face, pulling them out of the moment.

“Batcher, that is truly disturbing,” Crosshair said in disgust as he tried to shove her off. 

Omega laughed and Crosshair smiled.

“When did you get so wise?” He asked the young girl.

“Since I became a big sister!” She joked.

Hunter and Wrecker showed up not long after, arms full with their food supplies for the night. Wrecker had also managed grab a bag of Mantell Mix to split with Omega. If they didn’t have anything to munch on while making dinner, there would be no dinner to speak of.

“So, I guess you’re okay, then,” Hunter said, vaguely gesturing to Crosshair with his hand.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just… having a rough go of it, I suppose.” Crosshair answered. It was slightly more information than he would typically give away about his emotional state. Hunter knew well enough not to push him.

“Well good,” Wrecker chimed in. “‘Cuz I’m starving!”

“I’ll wake up Echo so we can get started!” Omega hopped up from the floor and rushed over to his bunk. The rest of the crew headed outside to start the fire. 

The saturated colors of sunset were still stretched across the sky as the sun continued to pass behind the horizon. That was one of Pabu’s specialties. Due to the atmosphere and the reflections off the ocean, the sunsets lasted much longer than it did on any other planet the Bad Batch had ever been to. 

Crosshair walked back out to the lookout once more to retrieve his rifle. He couldn’t leave it. For as much grief as it was giving him, he would always come back to it. He had no other choice. He slung it back over his shoulder and returned to the group to help prep their dinner.

As dinner waned into the evening, the stars crept upon the little family. They all crowded around the fire and told funny stories to Omega about each other from their time serving the Republic. And Echo had plenty from when he was still with the 501st. The little clone intentionally sat next to Crosshair during dinner to give him a prevailing sense of comfort over his anxieties.

“And so I said to Cross,” Hunter said, finishing his story between chuckles, “Cross, that’s a Tooka!” 

The crew burst into laughter at the story. 

“Did you really think it was a battle droid?” Omega asked her seatmate in disbelief.

“Unfortunately, yes...” He trailed off.

“Alright,” Echo began. “The fire is dying and we should probably head in soon. Hunter and I will clean up since Wrecker, Omega, and Cross made dinner.”

“Thanks, Echo!” She beamed at him.

“Yeah, thanks!” Wrecker said as he slapped Echo’s back in gratitude. 

It was probably a little harder than he meant as Echo stumbled forward. He turned his head to give Wrecker a dirty look. The biggest batcher just shrugged sheepishly.

“Come with me, Crosshair. I want to look at the stars over the lookout.” Omega requested.

Crosshair picked up their dishes and handed them to Hunter, nodding in thanks. The pair made their way to the lookout point. 

The stars were in full view, brilliantly shining in every color imaginable. This was something neither of them would ever get used to.

Crosshair held out his hand to Omega so she could climb onto the wall. She smiled up at him and took it gladly. She swept her legs over the side and tilted her head up to the sky, eyes wide in wonder. She kept her eyes on the sky but Crosshair was watching her. 

He hadn’t ever been one to talk much, even before all the events that transpired, but he didn’t think he would ever find enough of or the right kind of words to tell Omega how thankful he was for her.

He lifted a leg over the wall and sidled up to his sister, wrapping his arm around her protectively.

Omega wouldn’t always be a child, and she certainly wouldn’t need her brothers to protect her forever. But, looking into the galaxy here, together, Crosshair resolved his new purpose. He would make the galaxy a safer place. For her.

[lieutenant-teach]

Wandering around the galaxy, ex-Commander Cody and little Din Djarin meet an unexpected adversary, and Cody learns about a new burden he acquired unknowingly. 2/3 part (1 part), (part 3).

Cody enjoyed the planet Trask - being away from the Core Worlds, it remained unscathed by the Clone Wars; being small, not densely populated and lacking valuable resources, it wasn’t occupied by the Empire that aimed at most important and valuable planets and systems. No matter how much Cody disliked the Outer Rim for its mostly criminal population and their shady occupations, now he was glad to catch some breath in there.

Especially while he had a kid on his hands.

Din turned out to be a not very problematic child, though quite different from the cadets on Kamino. Not physically trained, which is a huge minus when you’re on the run. But, like a cadet, he didn’t complain about lack of comfort and stability in such life, though Cody tried his best to provide him with food better than rations. Regrettably, it required more sallies on the surfaces of various planets, thus it was more dangerous for both of them. Cody shuddered from a mere thought what the Empire would do if they were caught.

Apart from physical comfort, Cody attempted to give at least a little bit of emotional comfort to the kid. At times Din woke up crying, and Cody held him until the boy fell asleep again, exhausting himself from tears. At these moments Cody felt like breaking apart a bit every time, pressing Din to the chest, listening to his occasional whimpering in his sleep. The kid deserved a normal life, not all of this disaster happening to the Galaxy.

He felt both proud at a little brave cadet and bitter at a child forced to grow up too quickly when Din asked to teach him shooting.

They’d spent several days in the town in some kind of a ratty tavern, avoiding unnecessary questions and suspicions, as they easily passed for a father and a son due to similar complexion and hair and eye colour. Cody worried that he would be recognized for his distinct face, but not yet – the locals had never acquainted a Jango Fett clone before, and all the Republican propaganda portrayed troopers only in full armour, a very clever way to erase personalities. Though he continued to pull down the hood when walking the streets – just in case.

When one day they met someone from Cody’s past. Or, more precisely, from Kenobi’s past.

Cody felt someone was watching them. So did Din – the boy was glancing around nervously and squeezing Cody’s hand tighter. Cody lowered another hand near the blaster; if the follower was daring enough, they’d shoot right in the centre of the market brimming with unsuspecting citizens. And then he recognized a face in the crowd, watching him like a hawk. He raised an eyebrow, the person nodded to the street corner nearby, inviting for a talk.

– Where did you take the kid? – she attacked him with a low voice as soon as they turned the angle. Din hid behind Cody at the harshness.

– Hello there, Duchess Kryze, - Cody answered curtly. – I deserted.

– And still wearing their armour? – her hand was hovering over her own blaster, her posture tense as a nexu ready to strike.

– Better something than nothing, - he shrugged. – Why are you here? – He thought with regret that they’d have to leave the planet – if he met Bo-Katan Kryze, an heiress of Mandalore, who knows who else might hang around there.

– Why should I believe you? – she gripped her blaster, ignoring his query. – Who’s to say you don’t want to… - her eyes widened, she even took a step back. – How did you get it?!

– What? – Cody was taken aback, then he moved his free hand that wasn’t covering Din to the hilt of a saber on his belt.

– The Darksaber. How did you get it? – she hissed, her face twisting with anger.

Losing the blaster while fighting off the pirates intending to ransack your ship and sell the kid you take care of into slavery wasn’t fortunate. There were just too many for one man, as tough as Cody was – if not for Din’s shout ‘Cody! There!’ and him throwing something he dug seconds before from the mud. First Cody thought it was some dagger, but when the air hissed and enlightened with a brilliant black blade shining white on the razor-sharp edges and producing threatening buzz – he realized it was something different. Lucky him, he still remembered several lightsaber-wielding lessons General Kenobi gave him back during the war.

The saber was heavier than the General’s, almost non-cooperative, his first swings were clumsy and messy. But Cody knew he had to protect the kid, and with each movement the blade became lighter and lighter.

Still, Cody preferred non-Jedi weapons. So after fighting he disengaged it and clipped to a familiar spot on his belt – again, just in case of an attack. There weren’t many helpful blades conveniently lying around and waiting to be picked up during a skirmish, after all.

– Found it, - he shrugged again, playing nonchalant, mentally working out the ways of retreating.

Bo-Katan squeezed the fists, she was burning with barely controlled rage, though Cody couldn’t understand the reason. He remembered vaguely it was some Mandalorian weapon of historical significance – maybe, that was why she was so unhappy? She wanted a part of her culture back.

– You have no claim to this sword! – Bo-Katan raised her voice, then caught herself at a possibility of attracting unwanted attention of the passers-by and continued a bit softer: - This is a Mandalorian weapon, not designed for such like you! You have no right to wield it!

– I don’t have any ‘claim’, and you’re scaring the kid, - Cody intoned his ‘commander’ voice that some especially impressionable troopers called ‘regal’. Din mumbled ‘I’m not scared’ from behind his back and stepped a bit forward as if ready to confront Bo-Katan by himself. She threw a dirty look at the boy and turned her attention to Cody again, looking at him with thinned lips and narrowed eyes.

– According to an old Mandalorian tradition, whoever wields the Darksaber has the claim to the Mandalorian throne. But only in case of an honest fight.

– Duchess, I never intended to get involved in Mandalorian politics, - Cody felt an unpleasant feeling that despite his wishes he was getting tangled into something quite unsavory. – You can take the saber and overthrow your Governor Saxon or whatever, I’m not a part of it. – He knew this woman wasn’t sharing the peaceful policy of her sister, but frankly (and quite meanly) Cody didn’t give a flying kark about Mandalore. He knew these people had always had civil wars now and then ignited by their biggest ruling clans, and it couldn’t be worse than the Imperial occupation now. He even felt pity for Mandalorian citizens if all they wanted was to live in peace. Although, New Mandalorians were a very fresh change as per info he read, but the peace historically never lasted long on Mandalore.

But also there was one thing that turned almost all the clone troopers off while mentioning Mandalorians.

– I cannot just ‘take it’, - Bo-Katan spat and raised her chin proudly. – A true Mand’Alor must win it in a battle. Fairly speaking, I even feel insulted challenging such a disgrace to a Mandalorian. Dar’manda.

– Disgrace? – For one small second Cody’s stomach fell of rising fury born out of utter hypocrisy of this woman who had her opinions shared by all her compatriots. He didn’t even notice Din flinching as his voice dropped so low it was freezing cold as Hoth. – Did I ask to be created like this? Did any of us have any say in it? You dare to call me ‘soulless’ – where were you? – He stepped forward almost menacingly. – Where were you all, when millions of Mandalorian clones were being created and used in a war and discarded when ‘defective’, used as chipped puppets to kill the Jedi, who actually cared about us? So noble, so proud, so honorable Mandalorians – did you care about us? We, born Mandalorian, were never ever considered by all of you even as sentients, much less a part of you. We protected you – and you call me ‘disgrace’? Just because we were unfortunate enough to have some Mandalorian as our donor?

Bo-Katan clearly never expected such harshness and such words, moreover, it never ever crossed her mind – she even backed a bit, looking at Cody with surprise.

– You say this sword makes me your king? – Cody grabbed it from his belt and squeezed in his hand. – Who would even want to be your king? A people, who cannot live peacefully even on their own planet! Tearing themselves apart time and time again because of what – difference in traditions? At least we had a community – we, ‘disgraces’, as you love to call us.

Bo-Katan blinked, as if really seeing Cody for the first time. Cody exhaled sharply, only now realizing he was shaking with helpless rage – of unfairness, of disgust, of all this pain never noticed by the Republic. He steadied himself, composing his expression again. Glanced at Din, who was looking at him with a weird mixture of compassion, fear and determination. 

– Take the sword, Lady Kryze, - Cody held out the hilt. – I reclaim my responsibilities that I obtained unknowingly.

– I cannot, - she didn’t hold out her own hand. – Challenge is obligatory.

– Then let the Empire and its minions continue ruining your people. Whatever, Duchess, - he threw the Darksaber into the mud to her feet. – I’ve said my piece.

[randomficrecss]

Eruri fic rec <3

Part 1

ugh they are so perfect, this is one of my most fav ships ever!!

these are gonna be all longer fics like 90K+ words but i’ll definitely post another part with shorter ones!

The Blue by bowowline

E | 176.1K | 14/14 | Hitman Levi, AU modern setting, Slowburn, Smut

“Look, kid. Don’t listen to what Uri says, you hear?” Kenny combs his hair with his hand, although there’s not a single strand out of place. “Don’t ever listen to him. You only have one kinda people you have to listen to. You know that, yes? Who do you listen to? Tell me,” he orders, kind of frantic.

“I only listen to the Family,” Levi says absently.

As a child, Levi refused to finish a job. He has not made one blunder after that. Twenty years later, fate catches up to him again.

Birds of Paradise by obiwhat12

No rating (check tags) | 94.9K | 14/14 | Hurt/Comfort, Sick Levi, Domestic Fluff, PTSD

On an expedition gone awry, Erwin and Levi find themselves stranded in the forest, fighting for their lives. They are graced with no other option except to put their faith in one another, despite their vast differences.

Under the same bright stars, they discover a new kind of consolation in each other that neither has known before.

In These Fallen Leaves by masksarehot

E | 210.2K | 32/32 | Temporary Character Death, Post-Canon, Hurt/Comfort, Smut

[Post-Basement canon-divergent AU] Ten years after the end of the war, Levi, still heartbroken over Erwin's death, is living out a quiet existence with a few Survey Corps survivors. But signs are beginning to surface that Erwin is not truly dead, and they're getting too vivid to ignore...

This fic explores (canon-divergent) choices that the survivors made after Erwin's death and their consequences for the world. It's also about healing, and Erwin and Levi learning to put words to things that have always been unspoken between them. And beneath it all are the paths, whispering to them that the fate of Paradis still rests upon their shoulders...

Corps-à-Corps by onthearrow (loved this one)

E | 223.6K | 25/25 | AU fencing, Slowburn, Smut

Meeting people in New York City is hard. When Erwin’s last good friend moves away for greener pastures, he joins the local fencing club in his Upper East Side neighborhood in hopes of rekindling both an old hobby, and his wilting social life.

-OR-

The newest member of Levi's fencing club has it all it all-- money, a highly successful career, overbearingly good looks. Levi doesn't have any of that. But he sure as hell wants Erwin Smith anyway.

The Means by calacreda

E | 130.2K | 16/16 | Post-ACWNR, Pre-AOT, Prostitution, Slowburn

'He hears him say “Do not tell a soul, Levi” and wants to laugh. Tell anyone? To what end? So that others have the images that Levi now has running through his head; of grabbing hands and harness marks, hard words and soft lips, of lies upon lies upon lies in a desperate attempt to get to the truth?'

Levi begins to notice Erwin leaving HQ alone and not returning until the dead of night.

Slow-burn, pre-show Eruri.

He Chose Titans by masksarehot

E | 486.1K | 43/43 | Semi-Canon Prequel, Truama, Fluff, Smut

Erwin swore he would never again be distracted from his fight against the titans, but when an unexpected bond begins to form with Levi, he must decide whether he will follow his heart or his head.

Mail Order Spy by 35g (Jaackdaw)

M | 230K | 24/24 | Slowburn, Espionage, PTSD, Fake/Pretend Relationship

2091. Titans are no longer the frail oddities they once were. They're changing, growing. Governments aren’t changing with them. The International Military Police is tightening their leash. Erwin Smith orders a spy.

Dresden by hedera_helix (one of my all time favs)

M | 334.4K | 26/26 | AU, Historial, WWII

When Levi acquired his false identification he knew that the key to survival would be to stay unnoticed and to contain the bitterness and anger he feels inside himself. As the tides of war start to turn against Germany, however, Levi finds himself in a position to make a choice.

CODA by crownlessk_ing

M | 222.2K | 27/27 | AU 80’s, Musicians, Canon Disabled Character, Period-Typical Homophobia, War Flashbacks

France, 1986 - The last time Erwin was in Paris, he had it all. Youth, love, success, and his place in some of the most prestigious orchestras of the world. His cello had been his faithful companion through it all, and many said Erwin was the most talented cellist of his time. With such a bright future, it was easy to pretend everything was perfect.

But a lot had changed in ten years.

Now, all he had left were ghosts in his shadows, blurred memories of what used to be, and a body broken beyond repair.

He hoped going back to where it all started would be enough to recover what he’d lost: his ability to hold a cello, to feel, to love. He’d been wrong so far. But there may be another soul just as broken as his, someone who was also wandering in search of their own missing pieces.

Final Tour by gouguruheddo

M | 131.9K | 22/22 | Friends to lovers, PTSD, Modern America, Mid-Life Crisis, grief/Mourning, Trust Issues, Hurt/Comfort

It's been twenty years in the army, and Levi is finally home--retired, bored, directionless. The world has moved on without him, including his friend Erwin. He struggles to learn to adjust, to deal with his nightmares, to flourish in a world he's never understood, only to find that Erwin is dealing with the same thing.

Pledge by EllaBesmirched (El_Bell)

E | 123.9K | 15/15 | AU college, Frat Boy Erwin, ex-thug Levi, Slowburn, Light Hazing,

Levi is not in a fucking frat.

The Laws of Survival by pasiphile

E | 120.8K | 7/7 | Slowburn, Dom/Sub Undertones, PTSD, Non-binary Hange

His friends are dead, and now he’s trapped in a world where he has no voice, no control, and no one on his side except for the bastard who forced him to join in the first place.

Trust doesn’t just grow in one day.

Vespers by Valisi (series)

E | 109.5K | 12 Works | read tags

A series of stories detailing Erwin Smith and Levi Ackerman's private life together. Pieces can be read individually or as a whole.

Some pieces will reference things that have happened in past parts of the story, but it's nothing so major that you'll feel left out.

[tigerspite]

Ship sleeping? ALL for Siramis (that's Eramis/Siriks for those not in the know).

Oh lord. Thank you!

Under read more because it got long

Who is a night owl:

Eramis. 110% Eramis. Girlie does not and cannot sleep thanks to chronic insomnia. Night time is just additional time for doing stuff until her brain and body is convinced it's time to sleep, which has been known to take days. She kind of got used to functioning like that and feeling as terrible as that level of sleep deprivation does, but usually does crash out in the end.

It's not a new thing. She's been like it her entire life, and probably drove her parents and siblings nuts.

Who is a morning person:

Bizarrely, also Eramis. She gets restless and needs to get up and do stuff, so up she gets before sunrise to go and run around or get started on some kind of project. She just doesn't stop, or necessarily know how to stop. Always something ticking over in her head that puts her into action.

Are they cuddlers:

YES. They can't keep off each other. Sleeping, and the whole process of getting ready to sleep and waking up in the morning, is just one big excuse to cuddle. They are very snuggly bugs just in general, but that Devils all over.

Who is the big spoon and who is the little spoon:

Interchangeable! Eramis typically likes to be the big spoon, but this leads to her looking like a backpack on most of her partners. Siriks is no exception. He doesn't mind being the little spoon, in the same way he's happy to be the big spoon to her.

What is their favourite sleeping position:

Siriks laying on top of Eramis and squashing her flat like a pancake. Exact details of the position are flexible. The pressure helps her sleep, and his weight on top of her means she can't fidget and roll around like she tends to do.

Who steals all the blankets:

Eramis. Constantly. How? Unclear. She rotates like a rotisserie chicken when she does sleep.

What they wear to bed:

Depends. Eramis acquired a nasty habit of crashing out wearing whatever, so often ends up wearing her full suit of armor to bed. On the occasions she makes a conscious effort to sleep, she still tends to keep a base layer of armor on, even if the helmet and whatnot are removed. It helps her feel safer and more prepared should anything happen. Especially after her stint in the Prison of Elders, a spear would sometimes accompany her to bed as well. Siriks had to spend a long while coaxing her out of that and convincing her that perhaps she's reinforcing some anxiety by bringing armor and weapons to the nest.

Siriks will take his armor off and tends to just keep his robes on. He's nice and soft and comfortable.

To note, Eramis does not remove her prosthetics to sleep. They stay on.

Who likes seeing the other wearing their t-shirt:

Siriks finds it greatly amusing to put Eramis in whatever oversized-to-her garments he finds. He'll lend her his robes or dig out some godawful tacky XXXXL t shirt and she'll love him for it. Will she wear it to sleep in, however? Probably not.

Who falls asleep mid-conversation:

Siriks. He sleeps like a log. Usually he finishes what he's saying before peacing out, but no guarantee.

Who wakes up in the middle of the night with nightmares:

Eramis, although this doesn't preclude Siriks from nightmares too. She tends to have a more violent reaction to waking up from her nightmares, which sometimes (key word) wakes Siriks up. If he has a nightmare, he'll probably wake up and go wow that sucked, then fall back asleep in minutes. Eramis meanwhile is convinced the world is ending.

Who accidentally punched the other in their sleep:

Eramis. She's been known to chew on Siriks's arm while fast asleep. He always wakes up with bruises or bumps or teeth and claw marks on him. Good thing for him, he sleeps through it all! Bad thing, he's getting older now and waking up to additional aches and pains is not doing him well.

Who can't keep their hands to themself:

Both. As stated earlier, they're big on physical contact and all that entails. You know how when a cat or dog decides they have to be touching you at all times? They're that.