because sometimes people tag terribly sad things when they reblog my stuff. so here’s a reprise to postwar dreaming.
he had been right.
he and erwin had enjoyed their new house for a brief amount of time. the first week levi moved some of his plain clothes and uniforms into an empty drawer in the bedroom. he purchased a bag of miscellaneous home stuffs–utensils, cookware, items to make cleaning supplies, and the most expensive piece–a blown glass vase that he placed on the dining table.
they ate at the table for the first week. it was surreal. coming to the house after training and mountains of paperwork only to act a life that they never belonged to. they would eat under candlelight, speaking briefly about their day’s work as if it didn’t involve lives that had passed, lives that were going to pass. that in the end, they were playing with each soldier’s life as easily as a pawn on a chessboard.
levi found he enjoyed sleeping in beds, under covers, with his limbs tied up like knots around erwin. it wasn’t that he hadn’t had those nights before in erwin’s quarters, in his quarters, but there was always the risk of a hesitant knock at the door from another officer. and it wasn’t that they still didn’t wake up early. erwin would sometimes sit up against the headboard, papers in his hands and on his lap as levi drifted in and out of sleep, his body curled against his leg like a cat and his forehead pressed against the side of erwin’s thigh. erwin would occasionally drag a finger along levi’s shoulder blade, arm, cheek, and they’d both smile groggily in the presence of the other.
levi had found words burrowed within the wooden walls of the house–like termites they bred and crawled out through his mouth like pests. “you look handsome.” “i need you.” and one time, “i love you.”
levi stopped suggesting they go home so frequently after that–visits spacing out from weeks to months. he’d visit on his own to clean the dust off of unused cast iron pans, wash and hang sheets that hadn’t been used since the last cleaning. he tossed out rotten and wilted flowers from his vase and replaced them with new ones he picked on the way in.
erwin joined him one time during cleaning. cornered him against a wall and pulled the handkerchief down from his nose and placed a gentle kiss on dry lips. “i love you.” he said, and levi wanted to dodge out of the way of erwin’s mass… but it pulled him in like gravity, his heart floating up through his throat as he pressed his lips against erwin’s. they ended up tied together in their bed, levi’s nose nestled in the back of erwin’s neck, his bottom lip moving and playing with the stubble of erwin’s undercut.
“i love you too.”
when erwin lost his arm, it was harder to break down his walls. he stayed up later at night, slept less, talked little. he spoke to levi differently, more formally, like they didn’t have six years of history between them. levi came to him one night, interrupted erwin’s preparations for their expedition to reclaim shinganshina. “come home with me.” he said.
“i cannot, levi.”
levi’s jaw set, and he turned to leave, grasped the handle to erwin’s office door as he kicked back the tears that threatened to touch his eyes. why did he care so much? why was he going to cry over this and not things that mattered–like the countless soldiers that had lost their lives over the years. no, being rejected was what threatened to break him. he tried one last time to keep himself together, “please.”
levi swallowed and left the office. he went back to his quarters, looked around at his bed, his chair, his clothes. he grunted as he took the back of the chair in his grasp and threw it across the room. he pulled the hair of his bangs at the roots, huffed out angrily through his teeth before turning and leaving his room. he walked briskly away from base, ignoring any looks from fellow soldiers as he did.
he made dinner. put out two plates but ate alone under candlelight. he didn’t sleep at all in their bed that night. he needed erwin there, wanted erwin there. they had such little time together left… erwin was going to go into war with one arm–no longer a warrior but a figurehead. levi curled up on the bed, buried his head into his forearms and clenched every muscle to keep himself from falling apart.
he left the next morning after putting out a fresh cut of flowers.
when he returned, the vase was littered with fallen petals, the water in its basin having evaporated and leaving a dusty film around the bottom of the vase. it had been 8 months since he had opened that boysenberry door. and as soon as he saw how unchanged it had all been, levi wanted to make it to be 8 more.
he pulled the chair out from the dining table and sat down with his fingers folded in front of him. he stared off for a long time until his tears pattered onto the dusty table, and his voice shook through the empty house declaring the one thing he was always so painfully afraid to admit to erwin inside these walls: “i love you.”
So I’ve been thinking about Bungou Stray Dogs a lot lately and it’s recent rapid decline into a series a baffling, shitty contrivances. And I’ve been thinking about what it would take, for me, for the series to fix itself.
She’s been Dean’s best friend since when he was four. But is she just that?(Best friends to lovers - College AU)
Prompt:“Is there a reason you’re naked in my bed?”
A/N: Moving this fic from my side blog @canyonic to my main one.
Someone is shaking his shoulder, forcing Dean out of his dream and into the real word. “Idontwantanyhats.” The fuck did he just say? He tries again, “What?” and turns on his back, the light blinding him and making his head split open. He covers his eyes with his forearm, but he knows it’s her, her smell is already embracing him. “What time is it? When’d you get back?”
“5 am. Right now. Is there a reason you’re naked in my bed?”
God, why is she talking so fast? “Wait, slow down. 5 am?!” Had her trip home made her insane? Or had she missed him so much she couldn’t wait to see him? Because he missed her too, a lot. And then it hits him. “Wait, what? I’m not naked,” he states, and lifts the covers by reflex, only to find that he is. “Crap.” Had she seen any of that? No, wait, probably just his butt.
“Got drunk last night?”
His headache is screaming yes.
“Yeah, sorry, must have confused the rooms,” he replies, moving into a seated position and cupping his forehead with a hand. “Man, I feel like shit.”
With the corner of his eye, he can see her walking towards her suitcase, and he does a double take, confirming to himself that yes, she’s in her panties. And look at her walking away - Holy - He looks away just before she turns around and walks back to hand him a bottle. “Drink up.”
Ugh, water. He groans but knows that all that alcohol last night dehydrated him badly, so grabs the bottle and gulps down half of it. His mouth is less dry, but he’s otherwise the same. “Ugh. Still feeling like shit.” He wipes his mouth and throws an eye at her, only to find her with a hand in front of her eyes. What’s that about? He’s still covered by the sheets, isn’t he? … Yes, so what is happening? “What’s wrong with you?”
“Huh? Nothing, just tired.” Well, all right. She probably drove all night, it wouldn’t be a mystery if she had a headache too. “You didn’t bring Cassie here, though, right?” She says. “Otherwise I’m revoking your key privileges.”
Cassie, right. Funny story that one. It’s not like he left her for his best friend. The same best friend he’s sure he’s in love with. Better to save this conversation for a time when he can think straight. “No, ‘twas just me,” he replies, and hands back the bottle. “Hey, can you see any of my clothes?”
She bends down and he looks away, feeling too disrespectful. Besides, his lower brain has already too much power as it is. His boxer falls on his laps and he takes them and puts them on from under the covers. “Want me to go?” He asks, even though he hopes she’ll say no.
“No, you can stay. Scoot over.”
He smiles and tries to get comfortable. “Nope. Your turn to take that side.” But as soon as he says that, he realizes it was a bad idea because now she has to climb over him to reach the other side. In her defense, she does this as innocently as possible, trying not to put a hand on him, but her leg does brush him on his boxers region, and his little friend down there might be starting to rise to say hello, so he decides it’s a good time to think about planes crashing, and the Impala getting smashed by a truck. Impala destroyed. Impala destroyed. All right. Nice.
“Can you turn that stupid lamp off? It’s killing my eyes.”
He groans, then turns on his side to flip the light switch off. Lying down again, he tries to find a good position and tries and tries. He could turn towards her, but what if he gets a boner during the night? No, too many precedents already. How about -
“D, I’m about to suffocate you with this pillow, I swear.”
Maybe on his stomach…? Oh, yes. Nice and comfy, and close to her with his arm draped across her middle. “I don’t care who dies, I’m not gonna move again,” he mumbles, closing his eyes.
She hums in agreement and rests her hand on his arm. Aww, nice. He smiles to himself. Now he can go back to sleep.
it’s been, hard, but here I go. they are not in any order, just had to separate somehow all the winks (bc only after putting pics here I noticed that most common thing is winking lmao coincidence?? I think not)
Yoosung (Mystic Messenger)
Minori Kushieda (Toradora)
Subaru Natsuki (Re:Zero Kara Hajimeru Isekai Seikatsu)
Anonymous asked classpect-analysis:
Prince of Space?
Princes destroy their aspect and destroy through their aspect, tempering their aspect with its inverse to become stronger. Space is about space, creation, beginnings, and the physical properties of objects(shape, size, location, and velocity.) So the Prince of Space would act similarly to a Time player, destroying unwanted beginnings, creating destructive weaponry, and in general just wrecking everything.
The Prince of Space would start off acting like a Time player. They would be violent, pessimistic, and fully aware that death comes to everyone. They would be very careful planners, but their plans would not always take everything into account, frustrating their own efforts. They would also be surprisingly easy to distract though.
However, as they developed, a healthy Prince of Space would cut away at the excesses of both Time and Space, both allowing himself to see creation and new life in endings, and solidifying his place in the here and now. An unhealthy Prince of Space, conversely, would begin to destroy all of space itself, making them the session’s new Big Bad. In either case, their chances of breeding the Genesis Frog would be slim to none, as they would destroy any useful frogs whether they wanted to or not.
A god tiered Prince of Space would be a ridiculously destructive opponent, able to tear up reality itself to destroy their foes. They would be able to literally destroy the fabric of reality itself, which could be used to stop opponents from being able to move at all. They could tear apart objects and people at the atomic level, ripping foes apart like so many pieces of paper. Finally, also working at the atomic level, they would be able to destroy through space by smashing atoms and creating a nuclear explosion. In short, the Prince of Space dooms your hopes of winning and is a living nuclear weapon that can destroy all of reality. Fear them.
Hope this helps.
the crystal gems go to check up on the cluster, because power of friendship or no, that’s a hella unstable situation and they need to make sure everything is okay, especially with a homeworld agent unaccounted for
luckily, when they get there, it’s still bubbled
(those who haven’t seen it before may remark on how beautiful it is, congratulate steven, marvel at its impossibility, etc.)
but there’s one gem loose, resting on top of the bubble, unconnected to the rest of the cluster, supported by surface tension alone
and it’s not just tiny shards, it’s a full gem- badly fractured but still, miraculously, intact.