#zs get a pass

[solcarow]

.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

In honor of pajama Jamil, Fellow should drop his nighttime routine too.

So tell me, do you wanna go?

“My nighttime routine?” Fellow repeated your words slowly. They made sense apart, but not together.

He was squashed on a thin, dusty mattress, shoved away into a corner of an attic. Fellow had shed his suit and top had for a sleeveless shirt, boxers (red and white vertical striped, like a classic carnival tent), and ratty socks, a big toe poking out from a hole. Next to him, Gidel laid on his side in an oversized shirt and pants, yawning.

Night had descended, leaving only the golden circle provided by a waning candle as a light source. You leaned closer, out of the darkness and into the illuminated safety of their corner, nodding.

“Hah. I was shocked when first saw those fancy schmancy ‘routines’. Thousands of thaumarks on skincare products, entire yoga sessions before bed, preparing a set of clothes for sleeping in, feasting and then passing out from a food coma… Who has the time or energy to commit to those?!

“Giddie and I, we do the basics. If we can find a source of water—a river or something—we’ll wash in there. Ah, and we’ve gotta have dinner beforehand, in case any of it spills on our clothes. Then we’d have to wash those off too. We tend to eat fast. Can’t let food sit around uneaten for too long, or it’ll go bad.

“I keep some things for our travels, but it’s not much. We’ve whittled down our last bar of soap to a few scraps, and I think we’ve just about squeezed all we can out of our last tube of toothpaste. Our toothbrushes are getting pretty ratty too, we’ll need new ones soon…”

The candlelight seemed to make Fellow appear older, especially when he spoke of his hardships. The darkness of his pupils more intense, almost pulsating, his weariness put on show.

“We’re lucky to even have a place to sleep tonight. Worst comes to worst, we sleep under the stars in the clothes we wore during the day. That’s all we have to really call ours: the clothes on our back and the freedom that comes with it.”

A weak thread of joy sounded in the mention of freedom. Lighter, breathier, like a bird in flight, unbound by the land.

“Some nights,” Fellow admitted with a bitter laugh, “it’s hard to sleep at all. If it rains or snows, if we haven’t had a decent fill of food from the day’s work… The cold, the hunger, the dread of an uncertain tomorrow, keeps us up.”

“That sounds rough,” you frowned. “How do you manage to fall asleep like that?”

“I have my ways. When reality is too hard to deal with, you’ve got your imagination to fall back on for a distraction. We’ll look at the stars, try to find shapes and meanings in them, talk until we’re tired.” Fellow prodded Gidel with a finger. “Right, Giddie? Remember that story I told you about a girl with the matchsticks? And the big bear in the sky?”

Gidel nodded sleepily. Another yawn—his lids were heavy.

Fellow’s own eyes fluttered. He, too, yawned, catching the dregs of sleep that had fallen over his companion.

“Haha, looks like you’ve talked yourself tired already,” you said, careful to keep your volume down. “I’ll let you guys catch up on your Zs then.”

“I’m not tired,” he insisted, but there was little fight in his voice.

“Shhhhh, shhhh. It’s okay. Go to sleep. Tomorrow will be a better day,” you gently coaxed.

His lids lowered, flickering in a futile effort to stay awake.

The dying candlelight compelled him. The steady and soft cadence of your words, a lullaby.

Fellow fell asleep, Gidel hugging him as though the fox were a massive stuffed animal. He slumped, nestled the boy protectively.

“… Good night,” you murmured.

You blew out the candle, sentencing the room to the realm of darkness and dreams.

[m-jelly]

I have a request for mafia erwin bc I love this au

Reader has a boudoir photo shoot so she can surprise Erwin with the pictures but Erwin ends up walking in where he wasn’t supposed to and sees reader all dressed up in lingerie for him

Erwin pays the photographer and sends them away so he can ravage his wife

Photographs

Erwin x fem!reader

Modern AU, married, mafia Erwin, romance, being a couple, smut, teasing, dom Erwin, loving Erwin, unprotected, oral, touching

Erwin finds you in lingerie taking photos for him. He stops the shoot and ravages you instead.

This started getting very long, so I wasn't able to make it to the end of the sex session and aftercare, but Erwin is incredibly loving and a good dom thoughout.

@mari-zs

Erwin was in need, a deep need for his precious wife. He felt annoyed by the people around him, he just wanted to hold you in his arms. He left his meetings early and anyone that approached him he would give them a dark and deadly look that was pure death.

As he moved through the halls he couldn't locate you, which annoyed him. He grabbed someone passing by. "Where is my wife?"

The man gazed at Erwin. "A-Ah, I believe sh-she is home."

Erwin released him and smiled. "Thank you so much."

Now Erwin had a mission and a target. Words could not describe how excited he was to see you. The base was connected to one of his homes. Erwin owned many homes because he wanted to spoil you. The one at the base was simple, where he could work and come home to you rather fast.

He shoved the doors open to his home and looked around. He inhaled deeply and enjoyed how the home smelt of you, it made him deeply happy. After searching the main part of the home he suddenly stopped when he heard your soft voice and you sounded nervous.

Erwin slammed the doors open and was ready to rip someone apart. As he gazed into the room he felt his heart flutter when he saw you in alluring lingerie, it was just a cute white with lace and reminded him of the wedding night. It delighted him that you were dressed so nicely, but he noticed a man with a camera.

Something snapped in Erwin, it pissed him off that someone was taking pictures of you like this. "Taking pictures of my wife are you?"

You hurried over to Erwin. "Darling, stop!" You stood between him and the photographer. "He's here because I paid him too. I wanted to get pictures done for you. A boudoir photoshoot." You blushed a little as you felt a bit embarrassed. "It was going to be a surprise."

Erwin caressed your cheek. "Really?"

"Yes."

He pulled you against him. "Photographer? Did you get enough pictures?"

The man fiddled with his camera. "Y-Yes."

Erwin released you and fished his wallet from his pocket. He handed over a large wad of cash. "Get those ready for me as soon as possible. Now, please leave as I want to be alone with my wife."

The man bowed and gathered up his things. "Thank you!"

While he was leaving, Erwin followed him and locked up the place after. After locking up, Erwin slowly made his way to you and felt his heartthrob when he saw you leaning in the doorway just admiring him. He wanted to do so many things to you. His head was filled with countless ideas.

He walked right up to you and smiled. "Why don't you show me a pose you were in for a photo."

You whined a bit as your nerves seeped in. "Mm, okay."

He chuckled. "Don't be nervous, my beautiful kitten." He turned you around and patted your bum. "Go."

You giggled and ran over to the comfy blanket on the floor in front of the fireplace. "I did one here."

"Nice pic."

You posed a bit and sighed. "Not very sexy. I did try."

Erwin yanked his tie off and approached you. "Oh, I don't know about that. I think you're divine." He knelt before you and began crawling up. He came to a stop above you and smiled. "So sexy."

Your cheeks heated up as you gazed up at your husband. "Really?"

"Yes." He leaned down and kissed you. "I want to eat you up." He kissed your cheek and neck as he lightly rubbed your clothed heat. "My perfect wife."

You covered your mouth with the back of your hand with your head turned. Your other hand gripped Erwin's thick muscular arm. "Erwin."

He nipped your neck and smirked. "You're so much fun to play with."

You shivered in delight. "B-Blame your t-touch."

He moved your hand from your face. "Do you like my touch? Do you like it?"

You nodded as you gazed at him. You gulped hard as you felt your heart flutter. "I love you and your touch." You caressed his perfect face. "I love you so much."

Erwin crashed his lips against yours and hummed in delight. He pulled back and chuckled. "You are really horny, huh?" He looked at his fingers. "So wet."

You covered your face with your hands. "Erwin..." You rolled onto your side. "D-Don't say that."

He spanked your bum making you squeak. "I think I'll use this position later, but for now I want to eat you." He parted your legs and lay down on the floor. "A perfect snack for me."

You giggled when he pulled on your panties and snapped them. You slipped your legs over his shoulders. You pressed his face with his thighs and hummed as he purred at you. "You look good there."

He smirked at you. "Love the confidence, darling."

The way he moved was so quick and calculated, each move had a purpose and the aim to please you from head to toe. With a gentle swipe of his thumb, your panties were moved to the side and his tongue was against your clit. Before you could comprehend his actions you were met with a vibration of pleasure that caressed your body.

Soft locks of your hair collected together when you moved your head back. Gentle moans drifted from your glistening red-tinted lips and slowly filled the room. A gentle purr of pleasure rumbled from your husband as he enjoyed the sweet music coming from you. The gentle movement of his tongue was like a tantalizing dance to lure your body into ecstasy.

Soft plump thighs gently held Erwin's charming face in a loving caress. Stimulated by the press of your thighs, Erwin moved his tongue in all the right ways to escalate your pleasure to gain your delicious orgasm. It was something he so desperately craved. Every orgasm you had was a tantalising present to him.

A rush of heat caressed and embraced you. Your fingers tangled in the soft hair of your husband and tugged to indicate no more. "Mm." The pleasure was too much for him to continue his meal. "Erwin."

Just as he promised, while in your blissful state, he closed your legs and moved them to one side. "Do you desire me, darling?"

You nodded shyly as you wiggled under him. "I do."

He gave your thighs a reassuring smile as he waited for your approving look. Even though you had verbally confirmed you wanted him, he still had to ensure he could continue. Erwin's priority was always you.

After receiving your verbal confirmation and your reassuring smile and shift of your body toward him, he then unbuckled his trousers slowly so you had an arousing show. Watching him slowly reveal his big thick erection was always exciting. Every inch of this man was created by the Greek Gods, even his twitching cock with the throbbing vein wrapped around it and pink swollen tip.

With a gentle push of his thumb, he moved your panties and parted your pussy lips. His hypnotic ocean-blue eyes admired your slick hole with arousal trickling from it. Guiding himself closer, he pressed his tip in for a moment and steadied himself, you were just so wet and your heat was addictive. No matter how often Eriwn had been deep inside you, he never got tired of it. The way your walls wrapped around and caressed him was something made by magic.

After shifting his legs a little and ensuring his knees were grounded, he pressed deeper into you until there was nothing left to give. It always delighted him to watch each inch of his length slowly disappear into you until his pelvis pressed your body and his tip kissed your cervix. He has to praise you.

He caressed your thigh and gently touched your cheek to see you were flushed, lips parted and your eyes glazed over with pleasure. Fuck you were beautiful. "Good girl. You did so well. You took all of me."

You hummed and nodded. "Your cock is so big and thick. It's addictive. I have to take it all, I need it all."

A deep chuckle rumbled from him. "So honest, my precious wife. I feel the same." His big hand gently rubbed your pelvis. "I love being balls deep inside you. I have to put every inch of my cock in here. I need to give you all of me and then make your womb swell with my seed." He gripped your thigh and hip. "You're mine, darling, never forget that." He bucked hard into you to emphasise his words. "Never forget my love."

You gripped the carpet below you from the of pleasure. "Oh fuck, yes Erwin."

He bucked hard again. "Never forget my touch." He started pumping into you, the delicious slapping noises starting. "Never forget my body." He smiled as you screamed in pleasure. "Never forget my cock."

You shook your head and mewled. "I'll never forget!" You panted and pushed your chest out causing your breasts to heave in the corset. "Fuck me like you need me, like you're desperate for me like your life depended on it."

Erwin panted a little. "Always." He moaned your name as you clenched him. "That's it, love, squeeze my cock. Show me how much you need me inside you."

"I need you." You mumbled your words as your mind began to break. "I need this."

"Touch yourself. I want you to squeeze me so tightly that I might cum early."

You did exactly as your husband commanded, your hand shot down between your thighs then your fingers clumsily played with your clit. "Erwin!" Your toes squeezed tightly along with your pussy walls. "More!"

He shifted your hips just a little before moving his legs in a power stance, now he had more power behind his thrusts. He admired how pink your thighs and ass were becoming from his strong bucks and thrusts. The sounds your pussy was making as he ravaged it was like a drug to him, he wanted so much more.

You covered your mouth with your hand as tears gathered in your eyes, the pleasure was becoming intense and you knew your whole body was going to shake after. A little drool slipped from you when the pleasure consumed you. You let yourself drown in the bliss as your orgasm slammed into you and commanded every inch of your body.

Erwin grunted as your walls fluttered around him. He moved his hips slowly as he admired the glow that took over your body. "Fuck, princess, you are beautiful."

You panted a little as your body twitched. "Mm, Erwin. S-So good."

He chuckled as he caressed your cheek. "Did I make my precious wife feel good?"

"Y-Yes."

"I'm glad. It's always about you, my love." He leaned over and kissed you. "Your pleasure is my pleasure." He moaned. "I find your pleasure so arousing."

You purred at him. "Erwin."

He kissed you over and over. "Tell me how you want it."

You turned your head away and whined. "Y-You know how."

He did, but he loved you telling him. So, he dragged himself out of you. "Show me like a good girl."

You rolled over onto your stomach and raised your hips a little. "Mm, like this."

"Prone, hm?" He gripped your thighs and pushed his hands up slowly to your plump behind. "Excellent choice." He leaned over you and kissed your shoulder. "You do adore it when I take all of you, don't you?"

You nodded shyly. "Yes."

With a playful nip on your ear, Erwin pulled back and moved your panties to the side once more. He slipped back into your soaking heat and enjoyed the flutters of your pussy around him, it was happy he was back inside. Erwin shifted a little and leaned over you, his massive body covering you up.

He nipped your shoulder again before running his lips over the delicate skin. "Tell me how you want it. Soft or hard?"

You grabbed a cushion and pressed your face against it. "Erwin."

"Come on, love, tell me."

[heartfullofleeches]

“I've heard dreams are a pleasant escape for some people. Is it strange that all of my dreams revolve around you?"

fucking sobbing i love him so much (dea uses any pronouns right?)

id do everything i can to praise them in any/every way for the smallest things. theyre literally the sweetest. Any input on how they’d react if we just started calling them our spouse/partner out of the blue one day? -zs

[Using he/they for this fic but yes, Dea uses any pronouns. ]

Dea enjoyed grocery shopping with you. While the deity could simply will the ingredients needed for your meals into existence - there was something special about going out in public while at your side. They aren't one to boast about your relationship, but it's nice to have other bare witness of it. Their heart fills with joy whenever a human sees you as potential interest - only to be detered once they see the god lucky enough to reach you first hovering over your shoulder.

The two of you stand in line at checkout when someone calls your name from afar. If you noticed Dea taking a step closer as the familiar face approached you paid no attention to it. They squeeze your hand gently as you engage in conversation with your acquaintance. The god had finally worked up the courage to ask for your hand- Not in marriage, but at least whilst you were out and about. Dea had been quite fortunate when it came to your relationship however they doubted you'd go even to those lengths with them.

Alas - a god could dream-

"So who's this behind you?"

"Oh, right you moved away before I met them. This is Dea.. We've been together for a few years now- They're my spouse."

".S...."

Spouse? Surely they misheard you. Dea felt blessed just being able to hold your hand. Spouse. The word repeats in their head. A beautiful, yet hauntingly cruel title. How could you call them your spouse when they hadn't even presented you with a ring yet? Could they even obtain a piece of jewelry on that would properly convey their eternal devotion to you before you lost interest and moved on? Spouse.. They're you're spouse. What could they have possibly done to deserve this honor?

Your vision distorts as a hitched breath tickles your ear. You look up to see Dea - hiding the glittery tears building in their eyes and the cracks forming along their skin with their robes. You bite pass the dizziness you feel as their physical form slips to grip their hand tighter as they sob.

"Dea...Are you.. okay?"

'I'm fine... I am more than alright, My Grace, I just - got a little overwhelmed. Thank you. Thank you for choosing me. I promise you not a single day will go by without me expressing the depths of my affections towards you. I love you so much."

"I love you too, Dea...." You kiss away their tears, dropping your voice to a whisper.

"But we really have to work on getting you outside without tearing a hole in my reality."

[fanficfish]

hetalia thought: the older they get, the more "fuck it we ball" the nations get

let me give examples.

-italy bros are at the least gonna hit 2000 soon. Both are bumbling idiots who are more here to have a good time then anything. I'm convinced they're stronger then they make themselves to be (they caught England with a hole. Yes he dropepd in there but how did they get him into the cell? Venezianobbeat up Turkey once, too, and i think that was when turkey was stronger....and if you think about it, veneziano pretending to be an idiot means he can get away with everything. Literally. Even if he sneaks into a meeting room, him yelling about pasta is enogh to make the others go "ah hes at it again"

-China lmand the maid dress cosplay. Enough said.

-the Nordics, who are all over a thousnad and most are prob older. Denmark doesn't give a shit anymore, Norway goes along with everything becauae why not it's entertainment, Sweden is a memelord. Finland is probably a bit younger so he's a little more grounded, and so is Iceland- they follow the rest but i think they haave a bit more sense of not letting time just go by completely. -America and Canada are young and you can see it- they try to fit in with the rest but over or underdo it and are surprised at things like weekends passing by in a blink of an eye. Germany too, the three of them are babies and just don't quite get the joke sometimes, not for lack of trying.

-England is also up there and i mean. England and his brothers made up English TCG pokemon whatever

-france has long since accepted the idea of being a free spirit. He exists and contemplates and does his thing, knowing time will pass and he might as well try to do the little he can.

-we all know russia was hit one too many times by General Winter. Ukraine surprisingly seems to have her head, but Belarus definitely let the age get to her....just a little. I have a bet she's spent so long chasing Russia she doesn't really know how to stop.

-Poland also doesn't give a shit he just wants his ponies. Man's embraced modern life and decided to just take things as it goes. Lithuania would be dead from stressing at him if he wasn't immortal.

-japan is also pretty old but he is an outlier as far as im concerned becauae this man is a boomer whose besties are a bunch of gen Zs and he might as well be one of them. i think he's done better at the aging thing at least.

-not gonna touch on spain and olive oil. -or Austria's entertainment source being infuriating to his hosts and then marrying everyone.

-or Prussia who's kinda just gone awesome

-or Switzerland who saw the world as said fuck all lf you (cue the red cross) yall need therapy (adopts a sister) why am i the sane one here (puts up security cameras)

-and then ofc there's Greece, who long ago philosophiciEd tok hard and now knows the only things that matter in life are sleep, cats, and occassionally hanging iut with your best frenemy.

[itsmpmpmp]

chryso's post about the giver 警报's lyrics specifically the use of repetition and circular structures has really inspired me to find similar manifestations of perpetual repeated motions in 反深代词—at least before 少管我.

my favorite one right now is probably how "time" and the way the protagonist (周深本深—shenself) experiences "time" is depicted in the memory store 记忆商店's instrumentation. the beat that grounds the entire piece is just a TAD slower and thicker than the ticking of the clock. the near-perfection of it highlights how jarringly present the flow of time is for the protagonist. he is hyper aware of time passing, each second is like dragging through molasses.

the percussion's made up of what sounds like a tom and a rim hit (or something, i don't know anything about drums). where that rim-hit-sounding "ticks" represent "time", the toms resemble (heavy) footfalls. you can almost physically feel the way he is trekking, from store to store, looking for a forgotten memory. going through the motion. the tempo remains steady and unchanged from start to finish.

(i also like to think that the rocking of the swing mimics the swinging pendulum of the metronome. the violin with legato melodies is juxtaposed against the very steady beat, the representation of "memory"/the past here: soft and hazy.)

(unrelated to everything i'm talking about: shout out to the very last note of the entire song the beautiful soft airy G4. nothing to talk about it's just very gorgeous.)

and all of these repetition and perpetual motions are set up to be interrupted! broken! challenged! like how 少管我 could be a response to and a liberation from (the liberation of) the giver 警报, say hi 嗨 to me disrupted the belief that sincere intimacy is obsolete seen in memory store. it is a relic of the past, perfectly preserved with a timeless voice... maybe we'll get into it later.

i'm really excited to see what future tracks of disc B do to expand on and complete the narratives created in disc A. if this pattern continues (track 6 reacts to track 5, track 7 reacts to track 4) then can we expect a "call and response" for each and every repetition? only time and zs will tell...

[raccoonfallsharder]

The Very Boring Adventures of

Space Pilot & Sweatshirt Girl ✩°｡⋆

Domestic Scenes in Space Travel ✩ Installment One (excerpt & rating key behind the cut)

18+ only MDNI | no use of y/n | f!reader | 5/5 visits | complete | word count: 37,783.

In Rocket Raccoon: Grounded (2016) / Issue #3, Rocket asks a stranger on the ferry to "make sure nobody does anything weird" to him while he naps, and the stranger just, like, abandons him while he's sleeping?? who does that? when a stranger asks you to watch their stuff in a coffee shop, it's a holy obligation. x100 if it's a hot local space pilot trying to catch some Zs on the ferry. get in loser we're gonna fix it

reader x rocket domestic fluff & smut with feelings. comics-based but you don't need any comics background knowledge to ride this ride. excerpt below the cut.

Chapter One (The First Visit). rocket evades SHIELD by hiding in your purse. ✩ Chapter Two (The Second Visit). you and rocket eat omelettes in your underwear. ✩ Chapter Three (The Third Visit). rocket finds you naked & takes care of your cat. ✩ Chapter Four (The Fourth Visit). rocket teaches you about his tail. ❤︎‬❤︎ Chapter Five (The Fifth Visit). rocket stops by for a visit. ❤︎‬❤︎

WARNINGS: feelings & domestica. smut commences in the fourth visit. dirty talk, praise, use of "slut"/"whore" (affectionate), a little bit of oral.

✩ Domestic Scenes in Space Travel Masterlist ✩ Fuckin adorable sweatshirt girl art by @blueberrysquire ✩ forward one installment | return to main masterlist

That’s when you hear the screech from the hallway.

“Oh! Call Animal Control! Oh! It has rabies!”

“It is even still alive?”

“I heard it growl!”

Later, you won’t be able to say how you know.  There have been countless chaotic squirrels in the building before, and the occasional massive rat off the streets, though you suspect they all have much better reasons to be afraid of humans than vice versa. 

But you do know. Maybe it’s Mr Hobbes’ weird behavior or maybe it’s something more cosmic than that, but you know, and you grab your key off the hook and step into the corridor, still in just your bikini-briefs and a sweatshirt that almost goes to your knees.

Your gaze finds him unerringly: passed out, possibly injured, wedged in the doorway at the top of the stairwell with the heavy fire-door propped open on his ribs. 

“Uhhh,” you interrupt, pushing past your neighbors. “Sorry. Sorry. He’s my - “ you pause, thoughts colliding with each other “ - my friend.”

“Your friend?” says Josh From Down the Hall. He’s been bugging you to go out to dinner and drinks for months. “What is he, some kind of miniature furry?”

You roll your eyes and pull open the door, propping it with a hip while you try to hoist Rocket into your arms. Unfortunately, he weighs even more now - probably due to the heavy artillery on his back and at his hips, all of which makes him very awkward to carry. Geezus, one of these guns alone has to be at least as much as his body weight.  “He’s not a - “

“He must be your new cat,” says Brenda From Next Door, her voice a little doubtful. Brenda is harmless enough, though she can be annoying. “I hear millennials like to talk about their pets like they’re actual people.”

There’s way too much to unpack there and fuck. He weighs a ton. Your arms are shaking as you stagger past them. “He’s not - “

“He’s not a cat, Brenda,” Josh says rudely. “Didn’t you hear her? He’s her shrimpy, perverted boyfriend. Wasted in the friggin’ stairwell.”

You sigh. “Josh, this is why no-one wants to date you.” 

“You fuckin’ bitch - “

“Brenda, can you help me with the door?”

The older woman rushes to turn your doorknob and pushes it open for you, while also trying to stay as far away as she can from the Space Pilot in your arms. 

“Did something happen to Mr Hobbes then, dear? Is that why you got a new cat?”

Geezus. No wonder Rocket had been so exhausted of hearing people’s bullshit last time. It’s been five minutes and you’d cheerfully throttle both your neighbors. And you like to think you like people.

“Nope. He’s still alive and kickin’. Thanks, Brenda.”

You lean against the door when it closes behind you, shuffling the weight in your arms so you can slide the deadbolt and chain lock. By the time you get Rocket to the bedroom, you’re panting. Maybe the loveseat would have been the closer, better option, but you’re pretty scared you’re going to need to be able to access him from all sides. 

You rest him on the bed. Mr Hobbes is pacing in the doorway while you wipe the sweat from your brow and then tie up your hair with the elastic around your wrist. The cat meows pitifully.

“He’s gonna be okay, Hobbsie,” you mumble, looking down at your prodigal houseguest. He’s wearing some sort of jumpsuit with blood splashing up one side, but it’s hard to discern much thanks to the plethora of firearms he’s sporting. Carefully, you pick over the range of buckles and snaps and magnets holding his holsters in place. Some just look like grips, but have the weight of something much larger. You don’t know the first thing about guns, really, but you have a feeling that most of Rocket's don’t exactly have a safety.

Cautiously, you undo what you can, lifting each weapon with slow deliberation, keeping every barrel pointed away from you, from your wounded guest, and from Mr Hobbes. Probably these things can blow through sheetrock even better than regular bullets, so you lay them on the floor by the exterior wall, lined up neatly with the barrels pointed toward the brick.  

Then you’re unstrapping the harnesses, holsters, and straps of his jumpsuit. It’s been burnt in some places, torn and bloodied.

“Sorry, Space Pilot,” you say under your breath. “When you wake up, just remember that it’s not the first time I’ve seen you in your underwear.” 

read more on ao3 ✩°｡⋆

some explicit statements or references ✩ explicit scenes or fantasy sequences ❤︎‬ long, detailed, and graphic explicit content ❤︎‬❤︎‬ deliberately smut-free, mostly or entirely platonic ✮

[hannahssimblr]

Chapter Five

After a morning of frantic creativity in the studio, I head down to the shop with a head buzzing with thoughts of Christmas motifs. Petra is comparatively calm, sitting behind the till reading a crochet magazine in her lap and drinking a hot chocolate from one of the sachets she keeps in a drawer with the excess breast shaped candles. “Oh hello.” She says serenely. “Have you come to do the window?”

“I have.” I go into the storage closet next to the employee bathroom and start yanking bits of blue roll off the holder, wrestling my way through the clutter and piles of empty postal boxes for a squeegee and a bottle of industrial window cleaner. 

“I can’t wait to see how it turns out.” She flips the page while I start spraying the window and buffing off the dirt and streaks. It’s a smaller window than the café I worked on back home, but tenfold more intimidating, seeing that this is an actual art shop with actual artists working upstairs who will no doubt notice things like crooked ‘o’s or asymmetrical ‘m’s. Recalling the mistakes I made the last time, I first sketch an outline on the outside of the window. The sun is hot on my hair. 

The muscles in my arms ache from the gym as badly as I expected they would. As I work I silently curse Shane Healy and his wicked exercise regime, and every time I lift a paint pen to the glass and my biceps groan I curse him harder. I am tired too, my eyes feel dry and heavy after a poor night’s sleep, tossing and turning in my bed with a head whirring with thoughts of Izzy’s gig. I think about it now too. Of Jen especially, and how different she was, but of Jude too, and the strange rift between them. I can’t help but recall all of those little details like the purple skin under his eyes, the nicotine stains on his fingers. Jen’s thin body, the vacancy in her stare. It was freaky to see them both like that, to witness their distance when all I’ve ever known of them was their closeness.

I start sketching out the lettering for ‘mezzotint’. I have a design in an open notebook at my feet, and I refer back to it again and again, trying my best to mark out the shapes as symmetrically as possible. It starts off well. I’m careful, I’m precise, and I realise that focussing as hard as I can upon the task makes it harder for me to dwell on other thoughts. I don’t notice the time passing me by, the shadows moving across the pavement, I even drown out the sound of the tram as it passes, and it’s just me and this window and these pens and…

“Um, hello?” I get such a fright that my marker slips across the window, sending a slash of white through my meticulous lettering. “Shit.”

“Fuck, sorry.” It’s Jude. He’s reaching for a damp cloth so he can help me to erase it. I never even heard him coming. 

“Oh, God, Jude, don’t worry about it, it’s just the guide.”

He pulls the cloth over his finger and uses the flat edge of his fingernail to carefully remove the offending mark from where it cuts right through one of the Zs. “Sorry I scared you, I was trying to catch your attention from across the street for like, a minute. I thought you’d heard me.”

“It’s okay, honestly.” I take his wrist and lift the cloth out of his hand. “I’ll fix it later. Like I said, this is just the guide bit. I’ll erase it later anyway.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure, it’s fine, it’s just a stupid white line, nothing to get upset about.”

He looks up at the window. “It’s looking good though.”

“You think?”

“I do.” He smiles at me. “Nice job. I’m glad I caught you in time for lunch.”

“It’s lunch?”

“Yeah it’s like five past one.”

“Oh.” I frown. “I swear to God, sometimes I seem to just switch my brain off when I’m working.”

“I know the feeling. Do you have time to get food? If not it’s totally fine, I probably should have texted you or something, I couldn’t remember if we actually made a plan to get lunch or if I just ended up being vague with you.”

I smirk as I start bundling up my art supplies. “You asked me if I take lunch, and then you walked away.” After brushing my cheek with his thumb in a way that made my stomach bottom out, but I don’t bring that part up.

“Ah, sounds like me.” He holds the door for me as I carry my things into the shop. “If you’re not free it’s fine, by the way, I can get lost.”

“No, we can get lunch.” I smile at Petra who is eating a sandwich at the till, and we give each other a quick wave as I leave my supplies on the floor and head back outside. “Where’s Astrid today? Are you meeting her after lunch to do the big tourist round of Dublin?”

“Ah.” He says as we fall into step next to each other. “She’s not feeling well. She doesn’t want to do anything today.”

“That’s a shame.”

“Mm.”

“Do you think you’ll go tomorrow?”

“I’m not sure, she, well, she kind of wants to just go back to Berlin at the moment, I’m trying to convince her to stay for the rest of the week but-” He shrugs. “I dunno. We’ll see how it goes.”

“Not a fan of Dublin City?”

“Something like that, maybe.”

“I don’t blame her.” The Liffey still stinks as we cross it. A man leans over the railings and hawks up a mouthful of spit to launch into it. I shudder. “It’d be a pity to cut the holiday short all the same.”

“I’d bring her back to Berlin if I could, it’s just with the things I have to do…”

“That family stuff you mentioned?”

“Yeah. My mom is away on business this week, she needs someone to take care of Ivy. Like, bring her to school, cook dinner, laundry, all of that stuff.”

“Oh, damn. Is your dad away too?”

“No.” He kicks a coke can into the road and it goes under the wheels of a passing bus. “He just won’t- can’t do it. He’s not a big fan of, uh, parenting her.”

I frown. “Like, at all?”

“At all.”

“So what does he do?”

He exhales a laugh. “He’s very busy.”

“Right.”

“He’s rarely home for dinner. He works a lot. Late hours, paperwork, you know the drill.” I don’t know the drill. My dad only ever worked steady, predictable hours in the medical factory, and my mam, well, hasn’t worked since she gave up her secretary job in 1993. I can’t remember a time that she wasn’t at home, potatoes boiling in the pot while she scrubbed every corner of our tiny council house. She was always there to look after me.

Jude asks me what I want to eat, and I tell him that he can choose, so we head east along the river. “I know it’s weird,” He continues defensively, even though I haven’t said anything “that my mom would rather get her adult son to look after their child than her own husband, who like, you know, fathered her, but it’s just the way the situation is.”

“Yeah it’s not great, obviously, but I suppose this is an exceptional circumstance. One time is inconvenient but manageable.”

He gives me a sideways glance. “Yes. One time.”

The conversation shifts to Ivy as we venture into the Liberties, and he tells me about her. She’s almost thirteen now, she’s in first year of secondary school, she’s still bad at piano and has to be forced to go to her lessons. She still never practises. I like watching Jude’s face when he talks about her, he gets very animated. It’s like he’s a bit proud of her, like he finds her funny, like he genuinely likes being around her. I consider his relationship with Ivy in contrast to Shane and Kelly, siblings who would have beat each other to death with remote controls, fighting for the teddy bears with the hardest plastic eyes, the biggest battery packs so they could cause maximum damage to one another when they smashed each other across the backs with them. I often counted my blessings over the fact that I was an only child when one of them started up a battle, but now, for a brief moment, I catch myself mourning the absence of the sibling I never had. 

He takes me to a food van that sells coffee and Italian sandwiches at the foot of an apartment complex. I grab a chicken and pesto panini, which he pays for, and we take a seat on the grass in a nearby park. Jude stretches his legs out in front of him and leans on his elbows. He’s wearing shorts and a fleece, green and white runners and tube socks that have fallen down a bit on one side to reveal a strip of pale skin right up against the deep tan of his legs. He’s away in his thoughts again, eyes turned glassy as he stares out across the park to somewhere among the young trees planted by the fence. My eyes automatically follow the lines of his profile, from his forehead over the slight roman curve of his nose and down to the long line of his throat before I realise I’m staring too much, reading his visual language like a painting at a gallery, so I examine my sandwich instead. 

“What are you thinking about?” I ask him. 

“Oh.” He says. “Nothing, I don’t even know.”

“Mm.”

He gives me a half smile. “Maybe I was thinking about how I’m glad we could meet for lunch today.”

He definitely wasn’t. “Of course. It’s been nice, you know, to see you again.”

“I missed talking to you.”

“Did you?”

“I did.”

I nod. “Well, I missed that too. I’m sorry-”

“No more sorrys.” He reminds me. “It’s all water under the bridge, and like I said, I have more to be sorry for than you do.”

I smile, then he smiles, before getting distracted by a nearby dandelion. He plucks it, and instead of blowing away the seeds he rather barbarically picks them off with his fingers and flicks them into the wind. I wonder if he made a wish. “I hope everything was alright last night with Michelle.” I say, hoping my prying doesn’t seem too much like, well, prying.

“Ah, yes. It was fine she just had to tell me about something that happened.”

“Hope it was nothing bad.”

“Well, I don’t know. It was just… well, nothing.”

He isn’t going to tell me. “Is it a bit weird,” I pivot “That Michelle and Jen are friends? Like I’ve wondered before. I saw them together in a bar a couple of years ago and I was surprised that they seemed close. Do you ever feel, like, a bit put out that your best friend stayed close with your ex?”

He shakes his head. “No, because they were friends first. They went to primary school together, and when I moved to Ireland I started hanging out with them. We were a trio of friends.”

“Really? You and Jen and Michelle?”

“And some other people here and there, on and off at times, but yeah, we were.”

“And then…”

“And then one day I ruined it and kissed Michelle.”

“Oh.”

He splits the stem of the dandelion with his thumbnail, opening it up to flatten against his palm. “I seem to have this weird impulse issue where I can’t stop fancying my friends and then inevitably destroying everything.”

“Harsh. Surely you’ve had a female friend that you haven’t tried to kiss.”

He thinks about it. “Sure, but not as many as I’d like to admit to. When I really get to know people it’s hard for me not to blur the lines, to think that everything about them is beautiful, or whatever.”

“But Jen?”

“Oh, don’t worry,” He rolls his eyes at himself. “I kissed Jen too. When we were thirteen. She called me a fucking freak and went off crying.” His mouth quirks up at the corner. “And then a month of no contact later she approached me in the school yard and said she was sorry, that she actually realised that it wasn’t I specifically who was disgusting, it was just that she didn’t like boys.”

“She sort of came out because of you?”

“Yeah, well, because of my bad habits.”

I mirror him and start picking the grass. “I hope that she’s doing well.” I say. 

“Yeah, me too. Things aren’t that great between us at the moment.” 

“I’m sure it’ll get better.”

He sighs. “Friendships do this, you know, especially long ones. People kind of eclipse in and out of your life, and it’s easier for it to happen when you’re in your twenties. I guess she’s just, like, eclipsed out right now. I think I should have tried to be a bit more understanding over Pamela. I think I was a bit full on when she started confiding things to me. Jen doesn’t often get into relationships so I can see why she’s been pouring all of her time into this one, it’s just, well, I suppose it’s whatever. It’s not worth getting into it.”

“I think things always get complicated eventually.” I remark. “The longer you’re friends with someone the more likely it is that there’ll be conflict, and then when there is it’s so bad, like they know how to hurt you more than anybody else.”

“A bit vulnerable.”

“Very.” I say. “Back in first year I had a big fight with Claire.”

“Oh yeah?”

“It was because of… well, basically I just lied to her by omission. It wasn’t very wise of me to think that she wouldn’t find out on her own, but I don’t really like conflict, in case you didn’t notice that.”

“Who, you?” He grins. 

“But I was so used to always just taking on everything, like, blaming myself for being wrong and for ruining everything, but actually, when we finally got to talk about it and try to fix things, she admitted that she felt the same. She felt like she’d been in the wrong, and that she shouldn’t have reacted the way that she did. I suppose it was healing, or something, to realise that we both hurt the other, and it was okay because our friendship was stronger than that.”

“And now?”

“Now we’re great, we’re perfect. When I fell out with Kelly I thought about it all the time. I still think about it, honestly. I think about the things I wish I’d said to her instead of the things I really did say, and I imagine scenarios where I win and I make her look so stupid. And sometimes…” I wonder if the next part is too insane to admit. “…I think about mowing her down with my bicycle or shoving her into a massive thorny hedge and she gets all scratched up and has twigs stuck in her curls that she can’t get out for hours, and maybe they’ll get so tangled that she’ll eventually have to have them cut out-”

Jude lets out a loud, surprised cackle. “Specific.” 

“-and everyone points and laughs at her, and she runs off crying, and I know it’s so stupid and those things would never actually happen, but I’ve never stopped being angry with her, or actually, angry with myself for being weak for our entire friendship.”

“You weren’t weak.”

“No, it’s okay. I think I was.”

“And now? What about with Claire?”

“With Claire I don’t feel that way at all. I handled it so differently, it felt mature and fair, like, I was upset while the fight was happening and for the month that we didn’t speak, but after that, yeah, it was fine. We’re good. I don’t even care about the fight because we fixed it.”

He nods thoughtfully. “Well, that’s lucky then.”

“Whatever it is with Jen, I’m sure you’ll fix it too.”

He sighs. “She’s complicated. It really goes back further than just this year, there’s things I should have done the whole way along, ways I should have been there for her but wasn’t. I’m kind of coming to terms with being a bit of a shit friend.”

“It’s not like you to talk yourself down so much.”

“Hm, well I’m trying out this new thing where I’m more honest with myself.”

“How’s it going?”

“Horribly. It feels very bad.” He smiles weakly. “I think I’ve had a lifetime of being a bastard and it’s all manifesting this year, like I turned twenty one and it decided to come and bite me.” he suddenly sits up straighter and shudders, like he’s physically shaking the self deprecating thoughts from his head. “I don’t mean to be so miserable right now, Jesus.”

“You can be miserable all you like.”

“No.” He gently tugs on the cuff of my jean leg. “I want to hear about you. Tell me about this fancy internship. It was too loud in the bar last night to really get into it.”

I grimace. “It’s really not that interesting.”

“Tell me everything.” He insists. “Don’t leave anything out. When did you apply?”

I sigh and I lie back in the grass so that I can watch the clouds drift past. “Okay well…”

Beginning // Prev // Next

[destinyc1020]

Z has never said that she bought her mom a house and the Silver Lake house that her mom lives has not been associated by the LA Real Estate Celeb Press with Z. She may have helped her mom with the downpayment but Zs name does not appear in the property records for that house. A real estate outlet did publicize that Z bought the house that her dad currently lives (this was published shortly before Z unfollowed him). It seems to me that Zs mom is quite frugal and Zs love for flea markets comes from her. As a retired teacher, Claire most likely gets a pension that would help with the mortgage and her jewelry business would cover for her everyday expenses

Idk how you know all of that info Anon lol but I will have to just trust you on that. 😅

Maybe I'm confusing it with the rumors they she bought her dad a house.🤔

I'm still not believing that Claire's pension and side business pays for the mortgage on that house (even shack houses in southern CA are ridiculously expensive), and even if Z helped her mom with a "down payment" on that new home, I just can't see Z wanting her mom to have to worry about monthly payments for her mortgage when she can just pay the house outright and not have to worry about interest....especially as a retired teacher.

I'm just saying! 🤷🏾‍♀️

But anyway, it doesn't matter. I'm sure she's well taken care of, and I know with Z's parents being teachers, she's always said that she wants to repay them for their service for children. She mentioned it in an interview a while back.

If anyone knows which one it is, feel free to pass it along to me. I know I'm not just imagining things. 🤔

I have a migraine headache rn (Did a 5k 🏃🏾‍♀️ today), so I'm pretty exhausted 😩, so my brain might not be firing on all cylinders atm lol. 😅

[silverynight]

AU where Tanjirou is a shapeshifting Tanuki instead of a human.

Backstory is that before Tanjuro and Kie ever had any children, Tanjuro came across a little tanuki during his trip to get wood. The creature was gravely injured and out cold, it would probably be eaten if left alone. So, taking pity on the poor thing, he decided to bring it back home to nurse it back to health. His wife joked that they could use this opportunity as practice for when their little ones come along and they loved it so much that they decided to name it Tanjirou. After a few months, Tanjirou was all healed up (the only evidence that something had even happened was a huge scar on his forehead) but instead of leaving, he wanted to repay them for their kindness by taking care of them in return, so he reviled that he is a shapeshifter to them and turned into a human boy so he could truly become the eldest son of the Kamado family. As the years flew by, Tanjuro started to grow weak with sickness and Kie became busier and busier with the babies. They couldn’t be more thankful of the tanuki as he took over the charcoal business and household chores, blessing them with the opportunity to rest easy. And even when the day came that Tanjuro passed, Tanjirou still stayed by their side, wanting nothing more then to keep his human family safe. However, staying shape-shifted for long is tiring and Tanjirou has to be carful to rest enough that he doesn’t pass out or lose form when out in public. So after a productive day in the village, he could feel the drain on his body, threatening to slip at any moments notice. So when Saburo offered to let him rest at his house for the night, he felt he had no choice but to accept it. When he finally arrived the next morning, he found that he had not only broken his oath to protect them, but that he had a new goal: turn Nezuko back into a human. And so Tanjirou begins his journey into becoming a demon slayer and finding a cure for his sister. All while still trying to hide his true nature from everyone (except Nezuko, Tomioka, Urokodaki and the squad after trusting them).

It isn’t until after the mugen train battle that his secret is reviled. He had pushed his limits too far and used his illusion magic to protect Rengoku from Akazas fatal blows, they both needed to be carried by Kakushi by the end of it. When the news that Tanjirou had faced off against a upper moon 3 demon reached the rest of the hashira, they practically bolted to the butterfly estate to check on him. However, when they got there, his bed was completely empty. The idea that he could be outside or even kidnapped was passed around, but their attention was snatched away by Kanroji’s squealing. She pointed at Rengoku resting form and in his arms was a little tanuki with a very familiar scar on his forehead. Before anyone can even begin to question it, Tanjirou (still in a sleep dazed state) slides out of the bed and poofs back into a human, planning to just walk out to get a glass of water. But when he notices the pillars, he turns stiff as a statue (literally). After a bit of calming down and a short explanation later, Tanjirou ends up giving a small demonstration by making his tail appear and the hashira don’t know how to handle it. Kanroji is squealing so hard that only a dog can hear it, Tokito somehow appeared next to him and his petting his tail intently, Iguro is on the floor, Kocho is blue-screening, Uzui’s thought have gone somewhere we don’t need to know about, Shinazugawa feels like he’s burning up, Tomioka is ready to cut a bitch, Rengoku is still busy catching Zs and Himajima has no idea wtf just happened.

(Sorry for miss spellings I’m writing this at 2 am :p)

Thanks for sharing this with us. 😊

[fivedayslater]

zosan fwb!!!

Wip Ask Game

Someone in the zs club server made a passing comment about something that sent me down this angsty fwb rabbit hole. I don't even remember what the comment was tbh but essentially:

Zoro and Sanji are fwb, Sanji made it very clear at the beginning this is just sex, but he's starting to catch feelings and treat Zoro like his boyfriend. Zoro's been crushing on Sanji the whole time and gets more and more frustrated trying to keep it just sex like Sanji wants with him acting like that. It stalled out because I realized I'd actually have to like. Write a sex scene. But I'm sure I'll figure it out.

Excerpt:

Zoro collapsed on his back, sweaty and exhausted, but satisfied in the way that good sex always was.

He glanced over at Sanji, his hair mussed in a tangled heap as he fumbled for his suit jacket, looking for his cigarettes. Zoro’s eyes ran over the bite marks littering his shoulders and chest — none on his neck, none where the others would see it, as per Sanji’s request — and felt a sense of pride well up in him, and sense of rightness at how claimed they made Sanji look.

Like he actually belonged to him.

[timeless-fanfic]

Heyy can I request being simon zs wife and protecting her from something or someone

In the Shadows of Protection

Word Count: 1226

Simon Z x Reader

The sun had already dipped beneath the horizon, casting long shadows over the narrow streets of Capernaum. The cool evening air swept through the marketplace, brushing against your skin as you hurried home, your basket of goods tucked tightly under your arm. The day had been long, filled with the usual tasks of gathering supplies and preparing meals, but tonight something felt off—like an unshakable tension settled over the city.

Your heart raced, but you tried to shake the feeling, quickening your pace toward the small home you shared with Simon Z. He was out with the others, continuing the work that had become his life since he left the Zealots to follow Jesus. The world had grown more dangerous, especially with the Roman soldiers patrolling more frequently. But Simon always reassured you that he would keep you safe.

You just wished he was home now.

As you rounded the final corner to your home, the uneasy feeling in your gut intensified. The streets were unusually quiet, the typical sounds of conversation and bustling life muted. A shadow shifted near the alleyway, catching your attention. Your breath hitched, and your hand instinctively tightened around the handle of your basket.

You weren’t alone.

The figure moved out of the darkness, stepping into the dim light cast by the torches that lined the street. It was a man, his face obscured by the hood of his cloak. He didn’t speak, but the intent in his movements was clear as he stepped toward you, blocking your path.

"Excuse me," you said, your voice steady but betraying the flicker of nerves that ran through you. You tried to step around him, but he mirrored your movement, cutting you off again.

Your heart pounded harder in your chest. The way he stared at you—it wasn’t the curious gaze of a passerby, but something far more sinister. You could feel the threat in the air, the danger radiating from him.

“Please, let me pass,” you said, your voice stronger now, but the man remained silent, inching closer.

Instinctively, you took a step back, your eyes darting around for any sign of help, but the street was still empty. You were alone with this man, and your mind raced, trying to figure out how to get away.

Then, from the shadows, a familiar figure emerged.

Simon.

He moved with a deadly silence, his steps precise, every muscle in his body coiled with tension as he approached. He had spotted the danger long before you had, his instincts honed from years of living in the shadows, protecting others and fighting for survival. His eyes were locked on the man blocking your path, and his jaw was set in a hard line, his hand already gripping the hilt of the dagger concealed at his side.

You had seen this side of Simon before—the warrior, the protector, the man who would do anything to keep you safe. He may have left behind the life of the Zealots, but his skills had not dulled, and his fierce love for you only sharpened his resolve.

The man didn’t seem to notice Simon at first, his focus entirely on you. But the moment Simon’s presence registered, the man stiffened, his eyes flickering with uncertainty as Simon stepped between you and him, his back to you in a protective stance.

“Is there a problem here?” Simon’s voice was calm, but there was a dangerous edge to it—one that made the man hesitate.

For a moment, the man seemed to consider his options, his eyes darting between you and Simon. He hadn’t expected interference, and certainly not from someone like Simon Z, whose reputation had not faded even after he left the Zealots. But even without knowing Simon’s past, the man could sense the threat, the danger in confronting someone so sure of himself, so unflinchingly protective.

“I suggest you walk away,” Simon said, his voice low, almost a growl. “Before this becomes something you’ll regret.”

The man’s jaw tightened, but after a long, tense moment, he finally stepped back, his gaze lingering on you for just a second too long before he turned and disappeared back into the alleyway from where he’d come.

You released a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding, your legs feeling weak beneath you. Simon remained still for a moment, watching the shadows to ensure the man was truly gone before he turned to face you, his expression softening immediately.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his hands finding your shoulders as his eyes searched yours for any sign of harm.

You nodded, still catching your breath. "I’m fine now. I… I didn’t see him until he was right in front of me."

Simon’s jaw clenched again, his protective instincts still on high alert, but he pulled you into his arms, holding you close. "I’m sorry I wasn’t here sooner," he murmured against your hair. "I won’t let anyone hurt you. Ever."

You leaned into his embrace, the steady beat of his heart soothing the lingering fear. "I knew you’d come," you whispered, your voice soft but filled with trust.

Simon pulled back slightly, just enough to cup your face in his hands, his thumb brushing gently across your cheek. His eyes were filled with a fierce tenderness, the love and protection he felt for you palpable in every look, every touch.

"I’ll always be here," he promised, his voice steady and sure. "No one will ever lay a hand on you as long as I live."

There was a strength in his words that reassured you, but you also knew the weight that Simon carried—always watching, always protecting, not just you but the others he cared for as well. You reached up, resting your hand on his, grounding him in that moment, reminding him that you were safe now.

"You don’t have to do it all alone," you said softly, your eyes meeting his. "I’m strong too. We protect each other, remember?"

A small smile tugged at Simon’s lips, his eyes softening with affection. "I know," he said quietly. "But I can’t help it. You mean everything to me."

Your heart swelled at his words, and you leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to his lips—a silent promise of your own, that you would always stand by him, just as he stood by you.

When you pulled away, Simon rested his forehead against yours, the tension from the earlier encounter finally melting away. The world around you grew quiet again, the danger passed, leaving only the two of you standing together in the fading light of the evening.

"Let’s go home," Simon said, his hand sliding down to entwine with yours. "I don’t want to take any more chances tonight."

You nodded, grateful for his presence, for the safety of his arms around you. As you walked side by side toward your home, you felt the weight of the moment settle between you—an unspoken understanding that no matter what dangers the world threw your way, you and Simon would always face them together.

In the shadows of protection, your bond had only grown stronger, and as the night settled over the city, you knew that nothing could come between the two of you—not as long as Simon Z had breath in his body to keep you safe.

[slugdragoon]

Labyrinth Lesmosyne Devlog #12 - EXP screen, Visible status effects, buff/debuff icons

This week I worked mainly on battle system-related mechanics, and a lot of coding was done, but also a lot of rough temp assets were used to let me focus on that so the new features look quite rough, but hopefully some decent visual feedback was added that should help me get to a state where the game is readable for me to balance and test/add content to!

New post-battle reward screen - It took a lot of effort actually to hash these out mechanically, and I did no visual work on these at all, but to have an EXP bar fill in increments and check each increment whether or not a level-up occurs, I just filled the bar using code and no tweens/animations, but I also had to tally any levels accumulated and check the levels on the progress bar screen, but save the accumulated gained stats, possibly for multiple levels for later to pass to each character's screen if they level up. It took more reworking of my code than I had thought, since level ups just happened instantly before, and things had to be reorganized. The new screen will also display gold and items earned post-battle.

Status effects visible on enemies - I have had icons to indicate status on party members, but that doesn't quite work for enemy sprites, so I played with particle effects and shaders to add things like poison bubbles and Sleep Zs. They don't look that great yet, but the code to turn them on had to be done as well, and they aren't awful for a temporary fix. Again, it's mostly about having the visual mechanical feedback first.

Buff/debuff icons - I added some rough temp icons to indicate the buff-debuff levels of party members, do not yet have a solution for enemies.

MP and Time costs display - Both now display next to a Skill on the skill menu. This is important for me to see if the balance is out of whack while playing my own game, but I plan to have the time cost actually show on the Battle Clock when selecting a skill eventually.

So that's it, it's been a really busy month and hopefully I can get back into more regular updates, but I managed to not let things go longer than two weeks at least! I know this month will be more chill than last.

[dwarvendiaries]

Didi's Cataclysm Guide II

First installment

Vehicles and Bases

Last character was a drug addict so I'm doing over, because withdrawls are really nasty.

Vehicles are really useful. I started this run as an EMT so I started with an ambulance. This is pretty good because it has lots of storage space. STroage space in your vehicle allows you to take stuff with you on supply runs so you aren't always carrying stuff back and forth.

Over time you may want to upgrade your vehicle with armor plates and weapons. You'll want mechanics and welding for that. A good place to get that is the refugee centre.

But the best bit is towns can be moved through during the day.

Running over Zs is an easy way to reduce the number of zombies in an area with a low risk of getting hurt.

Driving tips:

Zoom out:- keep your eyes on the road ahead so you can avoid obstacles ahead

Start slow:- the driving controls take a while to get used to and if your character doesn't have good driving skills your control may be a little slow

Decelerate around corners:- this is pretty obvious but practise safe driving even in the apocalypse if you can.

Try to keep your wing mirrors:- they're not hard to replace but they create massive blindspots when driving

Vehicle containers have limited capacity- if you overload the items will drop through the floor!

As you can see I've lost both mirrors. Lets drive through this town and we'll get further on.

We pass some insects. Monsters that have to be avoided. Insects are nasty.

FInally we get to a wind turbine

Wind turbines an other high places are really useful. They allow you to scout out large expanses of land quickly and also can give you a safe space to hide. A simple wire lockpick and a day and almost any character can break into a wind turbine, so if you've got food already they're well worth it.

We head to an evac shelter

Driving backwards and forwards we mow down a dozen or so Zs.

There's an armored vehicle too, however its tanks are broken. Armored vehicles can contain weapons and if you find one that works tend to be safer. I rember its location ofr later in case I can repair the tanks.

On the subject of bases,

a good base

has a steady supply of food and water

Is not far from a some town

Is far from insects

Is vehicle accessible

As you travel and find furniture you can obtain nails. These are very useful for construction and improving your base, as well as being small and relatively light in small numbers, so collect them.

I'll be honest I haven't got into this game's deepest systems. Longest I've lasted has been 2 weeks and I usually kill myself by being reckless somehow (using flamethrowers to torch zombie dogs while suffering withdrawls for example)

[topazy]

Inside, outside

Pairing: 10k x reader, Addy Carver x sister reader

Warnings: Swearing, Z deaths

Chapter: 4.08

A sigh passes your lips while studying 10k’s emotionless facial expression as he listens to Doc and Sarge sing a song about getting high on weed. It made you sad because a couple of years ago he would have joined in, but now? Not many things seemed to make him laugh or smile the way he used to.

“Here we are, officially in cannabis country,” Sarge says once she stops singing.

Murphy exchanges an unimpressed glance with you before shaking his head. “Oh, my god. Oh, those aren’t pot leaves, dear. They’re maple leaves. Those are Canadian flags.”

A look of confusion crosses her face. “Oh, Canada. I thought it would be... different.”

“The zombie apocalypse definitely takes the charm out of the place,” you smile, thinking of the last time you were in Canada. “It’s usually cleaner.”

Murphy snorted at your sarcastic tone. The Canadian border looked as if someone had emptied a skip full of trash onto it. Despite the mess, the place seemed oddly quiet.

“You’ve been here before?” Sarge asks, sounding genuinely curious.

“My grandmother lived in Toronto. We used to fly out and see her.” You turn back to address the rest of your group, “How far away do you think we are now?”

“Newmerica is probably less than two days' drive now,” Doc confirms.

The same night your group almost killed Zuggalo’s Warren, you decided that it was time to head to Newmerica before anyone else died. She blamed herself for Lucy’s death. You tried to tell her it wasn’t, but she wasn’t ready to hear that just yet.

“Barring any unforeseen zombie action. Saying that, we haven’t seen any dead for a couple of days now.”

You elbow Sarge in the arm and frown, “Don’t say things like that. You’ll jinx us.”

Doc looks over to Warren and says, “What do you say, Chief? Are we doing this?”

Murphy butts in before Warren has the chance to reply, “She’s not that chief anymore; she said so herself.”

“Shut up, Murphy.”

Warren glances at Murphy; the pain in her eyes is obvious. She clears her throat and answers, “We were doing this.”

10k comes up behind you and rests his head on your shoulder. “This kind of seems too good to be true.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean, kid,” Doc says. “I remember when Newmerica used to be California.”

Murphy gives the older man a death stare. “Yeah, well, I’m back to believing in nobody but myself. I'm still alive, and I keep going.”

“You’re like a cockroach that way.”

You roll your eyes at the faint snarling sound that is getting closer. You turn your head and kiss 10k on the cheek before pulling your knife from its sheath. You step into view of a pathway leading onto a forest walk and throw your knife. It lands on the head of a Z. You reach for your gun to shoot the one beside it, but Doc shoots it in the head.

“More is coming in from all sides!” 10k announces before firing to his right.

It became clear that a lot of the people who worked at the park’s information center had never left.

—

Before being outnumbered by a large horde, Doc led you all into a church to take shelter.

Catching your breath, you slumped against the wall. The only sounds you could hear were your own heartbeat and zombies trying to break in. Once your breathing had normalized, you started to walk further into the church but froze when you heard what sounded like an animal giggling.

“What’s-”

You spin around fast and press your finger to your lips before pointing upwards towards the staircase. You let Sarge and Warren overtake you so they could lead the way. Truthfully, you were glad; you didn’t want to be anywhere. You followed in silence until you reached the top of the staircase, where a small horde of zombified nuns were gathered.

“Oh shit.”

“Zombie mother of god.”

You never enjoyed killing Zs, but killing in a church turned your stomach. You had to remind yourself that showing them mercy was the kindest thing you could do.

—

You raise your brows while watching as Murphy takes a drink of holy water, then splashes it on his face while Doc freaks out about being in a church. He said it was giving him flashbacks to the Catholic school he went to. “We’re already in hell, Doc,” Murphy says harshly. “We can only go up from here.”

“Hmm, you can only go up if you stop lying,” you say quietly.

“Pfft,” he scoffs. “I’ve lied about nothing. Not today anyway.”

“You keep blathering about only caring and believing in yourself, again like you used to. Just admit it.” You say it in a slightly teasing tone.

“Admit what?” He snaps.

“You’ve always cared about us.”

“Nonsense! I hate you all.”

10k stifles a laugh. His eye met yours, and a brief smile crept onto his face before Murphy sulked off to the other side of the room. For a moment, you see the sweet boy you first met. Your heart ached at the memory of how happy he once was and how much light radiated from him even when the world was in darkness.

You reach your hand out for his, and 10k links his fingers with yours with a grin on his face. He blows on a few dark locks that fall in front of his face, “You really need a haircut.”

“I’ll cut yours if you cut mine,” he jokes playfully as he pulls on the end of your hair.

You turn your attention to Warren, who looks deflated. “We’ve got Zs on one side of the building, and now we’ve got mad Zs on the other side.”

This was bad. All the food and water were left in the van outside, and now Warren was sharing that she didn’t know what her dreams—the dreams that had caused you to follow her instead of heading straight to Newmerica meant nothing.

“Only if we could see inside your head.”

“He could do it,” 10k says. “Murphy’s pretty good at getting inside people’s heads.”

The room suddenly becomes more intense, and you try your best to ignore it and look directly at Murphy. “Warren’s got your blood in her; could it work?”

He shrugs, “she did…”

“Worth a shot, isn’t it?”

Reluctantly, he agrees, “Fine, but if this goes wrong, I’m not getting the blame.”

—

You are staring up at a stained glass window admiring it when you feel a hand resting on your hip. “What are you staring at?”

“The colorful window. I always thought churches had a special type of beauty to them.”

10k looks surprised. “I wish I could take a look inside your head sometimes.”

“You wouldn’t find much.”

“I’m being serious,” he says, tightening his grip. “You find beauty in most places. I wish I could.”

Both of you turn to face the door closest to you, as it opens slightly at the bottom before jamming. Fuck. The wooden panels weren’t going to hold for much longer. You rush to find anything heavy to place in front of the door.

You notice Sarge and Doc going in the opposite direction. 10k goes after them, “I’ll check it out.”

You struggled to push some smaller wooden furniture in front of the door that covered the bottom half of it. Luckily, there were still some nails and hammers in an abandoned toolbox. You're about to start hammering a nail into a panel when the church bells start to ring.

At first, you thought it was an accident, but when the ringing didn’t stop, you knew someone was trying to attract the dead. You follow the noise and reach the end of a hallway just as 10k, Sarge, and Doc burst open a door, and Doc tackles the person ringing the bells to the ground.

You look down at the staircase when you hear a loud crash. “The Z’s have gotten through!”

You rush down the staircase and see Warren and Murphy fighting off the Zs that have gotten through. You use the hammer to show mercy, just as Sarge and 10k come to join you.

Sarge manages to hold Z's back with her machine gun while the rest of you block off the hole in the wall. When it was safer, Doc brought the bell ringer down to be questioned.

He revealed his name was Louis, and he had a bag full of different religious icons that he’d taken from dead bodies. You didn’t know if Louis was crazy or on drugs since he was talking in riddles until he was pressed into making sense by Sarge pointing a gun at his head. “Have any of you ever heard of Saint Teresa of Aurea?”

You nod. “They say her touch could heal the sick.” You sigh and kneel in front of him and start to untie the ropes binding him to the chair. “You do whatever you want, aside from getting us killed.”

“I’m sorry about that... I just didn’t know who you were, where you were, or what you wanted. I thought you would have heard the bells and run. I didn’t know so many Z’s would come.”

“Well, we are now screwed,” Warren announces. “We are completely surrounded with no way out, and those doors aren’t going to hold forever.”

Louis sits forward and says, “I know a way out.”

—

You’d done a lot of stupid things during the apocalypse, but escaping a church full of zombies into a crypt had to have been one of the most stupid yet. All it would take is one Z to let loose, and all hell would break out.

10k takes all his frustration out on the brick wall that was blocking the exit with Louis' ax.

“Hand me that; I’m opening the tomb for Louis.” Warren says sternly.

You felt sorry for Louis; he was clinging to his faith that the saint could somehow save the world. Not long after you’d entered the crypt, he found her tomb, but you went on ahead, not wanting to see what was inside.

You cross your arms over and lean back against the wall. Sarge leans beside you. “You look lost in thought. Care to share with the class?”

“I just thought that since everyone turns when they die, everyone inside the tombs would have turned us well.”

The second the words slip from your lips, you hear a commotion coming from where the tomb is. The saint inside the tomb had officially turned.

—

After finding nothing useful inside the saint's tomb, 10k managed to knock more of the wall down to find out there were metal bars on the other side preventing anyone from leaving.

“You guys hear that? The bells are ringing again.”

“Do you think it’s a trap?” You ask.

“There's only one way to find out,” Warren says before leading the way back to the church.

You were relieved to see the bell was only ringing because two zombies got caught up in the ropes when you climbed back into the church. Your group took the opportunity to leave.

Warren abruptly stops walking when she spots the body of a little girl who had been shown mercy, holding onto a golden hand. Louis said it was the relic he’d been looking for. The young girl had a strong resemblance to Lucy, which made escaping feel like an actual miracle.

—

Once outside, Warren handed the golden relic in the shape of a hand to Louis. On his return, he handed over a large battery to Sarge.

Back at the vehicle, you used the battery to turn on the transmitter. The signal was strong enough to hear Kaya's citizen Z partner, but she couldn’t hear you.

“What now?”

Warren clicks her tongue and says, “We go back to America.”

[transgenderstreetlegend]

The thing about “Gen Z absurdist memes that make no sense” is that they had a brief peak like 5 years ago and then everyone stopped doing them except for when there’s a post comparing generations’ sense of humor and the Gen Z one is like a picture of a 3D rendered guy with a singular word on it except those memes literally don’t get passed around anymore outside of that context so now older people think any meme that they don’t get the joke of is just “one of those absurdist Gen Z memes that the Gen Zs love so much” when really that hasn’t been a prevalent thing for years and most memes do actually have punchlines